


SANGUINE PARADISE

by CHINA DOLL (thesstarboy)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Attempted Murder, Bets & Wagers, Biting, Black Character(s), Blood, Blood and Gore, Car Sex, Choking, Death, Dirty Talk, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealer, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Foreigner, Gambling, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gangsters, Grief/Mourning, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Guns, Hair-pulling, Humor, Illegal Activities, Kissing, Marking, Mirror Sex, Misogyny if you squint, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Overstimulation, Past Drug Use, Porn With Plot, Post-Time Skip, Praise Kink, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Street Racing, Tattoos, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is my sickest fanfic yet LMFAO, Tongue Piercings, Ushy gushy my pussy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, drug lord, gang leader, horny hours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesstarboy/pseuds/CHINA%20DOLL
Summary: "We be throwin'money in a spiral."[BLACK!READER]A woman with a pair of roller-skates and a bone to pick stumbles upon one of the most prominent, monumental druglords in Miami at a rollerskating rink. Bokuto Kotaro, otherwise known widely as 'NIGHTCRAWLER', swiftly became absorbed in the woman and sought after every detail there was to discover about her.(Y/N) truly did try to live a life of normalcy as a black woman. Despite that, it was no fun. As a result, she allotted to propel the nation into disarray, unveil the due lords of the underworld, and reclaim what was rightfully hers since the moment of her honored birth. She was going to turn the nation's under-leaders over and put their merit on trial, exposing whosever positions were unwarranted and position them six feet under.This was Roman's revenge.This was going to be her sanguine paradise.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	1. SCOTT AND RAMONA

**Author's Note:**

> A rollerskater with a  
> bone to pick comes in  
> contact with one of the  
> biggest druglords in  
> Miami.
> 
> They call him 'Nightcrawler'.
> 
> WORDCOUNT: 4.3K

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes I've made! Please enjoy!

**"I LIKE THE WAY YOU,**   
**YOU DO IT..."**

**— LIL UZI. | SANGUINE PARADISE**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


Luster belonging to the sun turned on the brink of nonexistence the moment one would step inside a rollerskating rink. There was a specific vibe every rink aimed for; one could make an argument that it was a breeding ground for sensuality to take form and spread its wings, taking off into the blackness of a starry night. Light chatter filled the hot rink with a sense of comfortability and boldness to approach an interest you caught sight of from across the building. It wasn't everyday that a rollerskating rink, of all places, would be visited by such a prominent figure in the living underworld and _wasn't_ looking for trouble. The light chatter never died down, though, for they wouldn't recognize the figure in the dim lighting, anyway, especially since he ran out of hair gel and his tresses fell in front of his forehead. He couldn't find his favorite brand of hair gel, so he planned to wear his hair down until the item was restocked.   
  
  


Neon lights shimmied around the interior, strengthening any sensuality that was already present in the young adults who both rolled on the wooden floor and sat at the snack bar. Folks linked arms and side-stepped along to the beat of the song, moving their arms to propel themselves forward and encircle the rink in its entirety. Despite the salty pretzels and corn-dogs that filled their stomachs, they skated around in shapes for hours, losing themselves in the hypnotic atmosphere whilst not giving a damn about the world for just a couple of hours.   
  
  


It was one of the best methods of escapism.   
  
  


Rollerskating was an activity that not only boosted the adrenaline in your system **—** in favor of all adrenaline addicted citizens **—** but allowed yourself to get lost in the lights, lost in the music, and, most importantly, lost in the world. Rollerskating gifted all regular skaters with the ability to run away from their problems and bereave themselves for the night, which is why you often witness regular skaters not hooked onto another person.   
  
  


Many saw loneliness at a rollerskating rink as a sign of aversion to human interaction, but one figure saw that as a sign to approach the loner.   
  
  


(Y/N), for the past five years, has barely been seen outside the house without her pair of bloody red roller-skates, admiring how well the color matched her tanned skin. She'd much rather ditch her classes and take over the skating rink than be a good citizen to society and work hard for her degree.   
  
  


She often took on the world with a broad vision, not even missing the drop of a pencil from across the planet. She held much more potential than she's been letting on for the past five years, not necessarily concerned with anything that didn't pertain to her living her best life as a black woman. A life of normalcy is what the majority desires, simply wanting to experience the world at full-speed without anxiety looming over their heart every time they focused on themselves instead of surrendering to the shadows. (Y/N) did just that; she focused on her own well-being and continued to live her best life of semi-luxury, shying away from the shadows in her alleyways that threw out testimonies in an attempt to tug her back.   
  
  


(Y/N) wanted to know what that normalcy was like, so she left.   
  
  


Be that as it may, after five years of inducing comfort and relaxation in her daily routine, that normalcy planned to end itself within a mere two weeks. Something was crawling back towards her; though it was slow, the woman held no desire to maneuver around it, so it eventually returned to trap her in an enclosure of bullets her finger dispatched by jerking on the trigger **—** thirsting for a taste of sanguine.   
  
  


"Ayo, shawty, what's up with you?"  
  
  


 _'God no,'_ (Y/N) thought to herself, turning in her stool at the snack bar to be met with a pale neck painted in an abundance of tattoos. 

She noticed the sudden change in music choice, shifting from a sensual, R&B song to the genre of trap music. This was when the skating rink began catering to young adults only, and the woman perked up at the adjustment of the atmosphere. However, she had to deal with a man that seemed like he'd bring her no sort of good in the _'normal'_ lifestyle she was aiming for.   
  
  


"Lawd', do not refer to me as _'shawty'_ please," she laughed distressingly, sensing secondhand embarrassment from a man that wasn't embarrassed in the first place.   
  
  


"Sorry, I had no idea how to approach you," he laughed, taking a seat in the stool right next to hers.   
  
  


It didn't take long for the woman to descry the tattoos that adorned his body like the carvings in Ancient Rome architect, cloaking his plenary upper body, even down to the beds of his fingernails. She couldn't make out most of the art covering his body, but she could tell that garnishing his right arm were multiple snakes running up and down the entire limb, paired with the kanji spelling of 'CAPTAIN' inscribed on the right side of his face, just above his sculpted jawline. It was far from uncommon to see a foreigner in the boiling pot of Miami city, but to be able to use their slang with accuracy was another story. It wasn't as bad as folks from the Bay area, though, thank the ancestors.   
  
  


Somebody who looked this good wouldn't do her any good; she knew from personal experience with her own self.   
  
  


"It's all good. Why'd you come over here?"  
  
  


"What? I can't approach a beautiful woman like you?" he retorted, showcasing a physically attractive smirk which allowed his tongue piercing to be seen.   
  
  


"No, actually. I require two goats and a diamond necklace for my hand in marriage," she joked, referencing a saying her auntie used to spew every time (Y/N) brought a boy to the family function.   
  
  


_'If he's not in possession of diamonds and he's not willing to sacrifice a goat to whatever deity he worships in order to have you fall in love with him, I don't want him in my house!'_ she would drive off every high school date for the poor girl, so (Y/N) eventually stopped telling her folks about her love life. 

Basically, her saying was, _"fuck broke niggas."_ It was a great way to abuse the patriarchy in her favor, so (Y/N) couldn't knock her hustle altogether.   
  
  


"A diamond necklace you say? I can do that. It might take a while for the goats to get here, though..." Bokuto rubbed his chin, evoking a wail out of the woman.  
  
  


"Wait, no! I don't even have enough space in my place for a goat," she laughed, both amusingly and low-key anxiously.  
  
  


"Okay, so a new house _as well_ to hold the goats and the diamond necklace. I've never had someone request _that_ of all things, but consider it done."  
  
  


"You are insufferable," she replied, dragging her hands down her face and securing a generous chuckle from the inked man.  
  
  


"I know, it's my specialty. Anyway, I saw you from across the rink and I wanted to tell you that you skate real nicely! Can you teach me someday? I kinda suck ass," he scratched the back of his neck, endowing an oddly innocent expression of curiosity and interest.   
  
  


(Y/N) raised her brow, pausing her assault on the (F/F) she had ordered. The woman was certain that, in regards to the way she went to chowtown on the food sitting in front of her, she'd repel any leachingly lustful boys who desired only a taste of her. Nonetheless, a tattooed man, who she apprehended sincerity from, watched her unattractively eat like this was the last supper and she was the man who snitched on Jesus Christ. Briefly, (Y/N) wiped the crumbs decorating her pinkish-brown lips and tucked a piece of her blow-dried hair behind her ear _(the braider cancelled on her last minute, so she rocked with what she had)_.   
  
  
  


"Oh! You think I'm good? Really, I'm average at best," she smiled, waving her hand to dismiss the obviously well-deserved compliment. (Y/N) didn't know what she looked like when she skated, for she lost herself in the moment every single time. As long as she had the ability to keep herself upright, she wasn't concerned about what she appeared like in the eyes of lurkers.   
  
  


"Nah, you're great at it! You got rhythm to ya'. Can I get your name, _oh interesting woman who's caught my attention_?" he leaned his face into his palm, placing his elbow atop the counter.  
  
  


"(Y/N). How about you, _oh interesting man who approached me_?" she replied, presuming he wasn't all that bad.  
  
  


"Bokuto. Here, you guys don't really refer to yourselves by your last names, so you can, like, I don't know, call me Kotaro," the intimidating man was suddenly unsure of his choice of words which, oddly enough, elicited a more relaxed atmosphere from (Y/N).   
  
  


"I'll call you _Ko_ , it's cute," she formed her plump, glossy lips in a toothy smile.   
  
  


"I also wanted to take you out on a date sometime!!" he abruptly spouted, promptly believing he fucked up the chill atmosphere between the two.  
  
  


Bokuto desperately wanted to forge a veneer of coolness and sincerity at the same time, however, those were two very different facades that he couldn't manage at the same time. It was either his _'business'_ guise he put on, or the frisky air he showed only around close friends. He was taught just a couple of years ago to refrain from gifting everybody the present of his playfulness, so he adapted those ideals and now he had trouble with exhibiting fervor on command. It had to be with somebody he genuinely trusted.   
  
  


Even in the vicinity of a woman he's never seen until just an hour ago, she exuded an ambiance that enticed the man and acted as some sort of magnet between the two. He found himself stumbling over the cool exterior he desired to show her but couldn't keep up properly. It was a dog walk in the park to switch personalities for him, but, now, he just _really_ wanted to take her out one night. Or, maybe even a couple of nights? It depends if he could pull himself together and prevent from fucking up the woman's night.   
  
  


"I'm so **—** "  
  
  


"Fuck digesting the food, I'ma teach this pretty boy how to skate!" she jumped up from her position on the stool, standing at (H/N), which further enticed the man and induced a mental groan of desire filling his head.   
  
  


She, apparently, didn't hear a word of what Bokuto spouted, only paying attention to one of her favorite trap songs that graced their speakers. To his relief, she tugged on his inky wrist and rolled the pair onto the wooden floors of the rink, adamant on swaying her body to the bass of the music. Really, she wasn't even instructing the man, she just tugged him along to whatever movements she made on the skates. It didn't bother Bokuto one bit, though, when he was permitted the sight of (Y/N) dropping low and winding her hips to the bass.   
  
  


"Then I'ma throw this money while you do it with no hands!!" she yelled along with the rest of the rink, just before the beat drop  
  
  


He could definitely get used to this.   
  
  


How could he be so easily allured towards a woman who's barely shown anything of herself to him? However, her sudden brandish of excitement to teach Bokuto something he's been itching to learn ever since he face-planted onto the floor just an hour ago provoked the impression of attraction and comfort, so he put his confusion towards his heart aside and enjoyed the night with (Y/N).  
  
  


He nearly lost his balance several times, but (Y/N) pulled him back up with ease and allowed his legs to stabilize before she continued her antics. No other woman in the entire rink caught his attention the same way she did, especially when she dropped onto her knees and jerked her backside up, never losing her rhythm to _'No Hands'_. She drew her legs back up again but maintained her bent-over posture, forcing Bokuto to grab onto her hips if he wanted to stay afloat and not face-plant into the floor.   
  
  


She giggled at Bokuto's struggle to refrain from toppling over and established she'll stop playing around, straightening her rear in place and seizing his hand once more. He seemed thoroughly satisfied with the previous view, though, so he continued to skate behind (Y/N) to watch her rear through her remixed jeans. Before the pair noticed, an hour passed of Bokuto getting used to walking on skates and (Y/N) teasing him by letting him go and leaving him in the middle of the rink a couple of times.  
  
  


She continued to dance as if nobody were watching her, eyes locking with Bokuto's yellow hues, sometimes losing herself in a daze if she dared to look for too long. They glowed when toted into darkness and held an animalistic glare **—** it reminded her of an owl of some sort that observed its prey like a camera, taking note of every aspect it detected and storing it for later. He held the type of countenance that women's knees reduced to jelly for, and (Y/N) couldn't blame them. Whether their weakened knees sprouted from sensual attraction or uneasiness at what he was capable of was a completely different story that ultimately depended upon the type of woman he was dealing with. The woman he currently danced with knew off the bat that he wasn't a man to be messed with; she knew he had something going on she wasn't aware of. She couldn't tell, though, if she desired for her curiosity to overthrow the crown or if she wanted to leave him alone all together in order to preserve her normalcy.   
  
  


Curiosity, as always, won over everything else. (Y/N) was going to learn what phenomenon was occurring behind those owl-like eyes, and hopefully, in the process, bring some excitement into her dull-ish five years of living.   
  
  


" _Ko_ , I'm tired so I'm gonna sit down," (Y/N) huffed, drawing out the _Ko_ in her sentence.   
  
  


Bokuto looked (down/up/across) from his height and took notice of the sweat covering her cheeks, not apprehending earlier that she was most likely at her limit. He didn't attest to her tugging them over to a random booth off the side of the rink, but he did wish the night was longer (as well as her stamina, though he'd never say it out loud) so he could luxuriate in her presence. The drawl of his name dispatched nerve signals all throughout his body, especially the most center section. Unconsciously, his hand tightened around the (H/C) haired woman, barely gaining her attention due to her energy being long since depleted.   
  
  


_'Damn, how did I become infatuated so fast?'_ he asked himself, watching (Y/N)'s head of hair poof up further at the humidity radiating off of her body.   
  
  


Sensual was the only way to describe the ambiance that continued to float around the pair, especially on Bokuto's end when he stared at her exhausted physique. It brought forth certain thoughts, tingles, and throbs (in more place than one) around all aspects of his body, searching her eyes to see if she held the same _'complication'_ as him. On the contrary, her head laid on the wall adjacent to her body, veering her upper body to the left so she could catch her breath.   
  
  


"That was fun, let's do it again," she huffed, further placing Bokuto in a more _difficult_ situation than before.   
  
  


He was an adult. He was a grown ass man that knew he could make his desires known to women that were just as grown as him and, most likely, felt the same. The world he indulged in was far from anything remotely similar to high school, meaning he didn't have to pretend that his wants were a sin and a disappointment to society. Most importantly, he didn't have to entertain the world as if the rejection of a woman, who probably either has a partner or has a lot going on in her life, was going to be the end of his world. Bokuto knew of one thing he wanted, but he was concerned with it spiraling out of control and into a deep affection he couldn't afford to indulge in, at least not with a _normal_ woman.   
  
  


"You look tired, though," he retorted, tilting his head.   
  
  


"And it's no fair. You're sitting there all pretty with barely any sweat, you _barely_ worked a bone! Meanwhile I'm on the verge of death after only one hour. I'm not built like I used to be," she sulked, somehow managing to compliment the man at the same time.   
  
  


Bokuto used to play volleyball back in Japan, so of course an activity like skating wouldn't strain him _too_ much. His stamina naturally upheld itself over the years, even after he moved to Miami almost four years ago. Exploiting business in his line required him to stay fit, but he also visited the gym to make sure his health didn't stagnate.   
  
  


"Well, why don't we go out some other time?" he suggested, taking advantage of the chance he was presented without having to fluster himself like he did an hour ago.   
  
  


He still aspired to appear as a cool and collective guy, even after (Y/N) embarrassed him multiple times inside the rink. He just happened to be a cool and collective guy that couldn't skate, that's all.   
  
  


"Oh? Promise to bring me my goats and diamond necklace?" she tipped her head off of the wall and smiled with mischief written all over her.   
  
  


"Of course, my lady," he and (Y/N) shared a laugh together, finally straightening their postures since the pair had a chance to catch their breath.   
  
  


During the comfortable silence that overcame the pair, an unexpected idea forged in the forefront of Bokuto's mind, swiftly throwing the rational sections of his brain into disarray. His memory had refreshed with an event his close friend was holding, though he wasn't sure if that type of environment would be impregnable for the lady he wanted. He took her up as the type of woman that enjoyed a good thrill and a fun poker game from time to time, but not much other than that. She was normal, but had a little pzazz to her like a piece of food garnished in extra seasonings to bring out its fullest potential.   
  
  


Well, it wasn't like anything was truly going to go down with Nekoma and Fukurodani there, so he invited her.   
  
  


"My bro is having this party in about two weeks, you wanna go?"  
  
  


"What type of party is it?" she squinted her eyes, adamant on not going to another rave party ever again.   
  
  


"Gambling. Of course there's a dance floor and drinks on the house, but it's mainly **—** "  
  
  


"You had me at _'dance floor'_ and _drinks on the house'._ What's the date so I can save it?" she asked, pulling out her phone to add the event to her calendar.   
  
  


Of course (Y/N) probably had classes that day, but she continued to skip even at the slightest inconvenience in her life, so something as important as free drinks and the possibility of making big money required her attention more than her education. Her friend constantly smothered (Y/N) about her grades until it reached a point where she ignored their calls for a week at a time. It wasn't her fault that life was much more enjoyable when ignoring important deadlines; the friend knew how much she hated deadlines.   
  
  


Why not do things at your own pace instead of worrying about a date that didn't even appear into existence yet?   
  
  


"The 9th."  
  
  


"Ooo, my favorite number. Who'll all be there? I don't know if I have anything in my closet, but I can worry about that later. Put your number in my phone so we can make sure I receive those goats," (Y/N) brought her phone over the table that separated the two and dropped it in his larger-than-normal palms.   
  
  


"Folks of mine will be there. They're harmless, of course, but they'll fuck up a dance floor if given the chance," he briefly entered _'Ko'_ with a knife emoji in her contacts and returned the phone.  
  
  


"Awesome, I need a hype-man for when I start break dancing and doing _the jerk_."  
  
  


"You can break dance too?! Oh, now you've _gotta_ go! I can come pick you up from your place!"  
  
  


"Sounds perfect. Anyway, I'm sure my bed is missing me right now, plus it's almost 1 in the morning, so I gotta go home," (Y/N) stated, standing up from the booth as Bokuto followed, taking her hand in his own.   
  
  


"You sure? You can come with me for the night, if you want?"  
  
  


" _Tempting_ , pretty boy. Very tempting, but I'm gonna have to pass. Unfortunately, there's a bloody mess happening between my legs, so I'll have to give you a rain check on that," (Y/N), very quickly, caught wind of what Bokuto was offering, and under different circumstances, she would've accepted it.   
  
  


Bokuto was an exquisitely good-looking man with every feature (Y/N) ever fantasized about, including his subtle tongue piercing. Both parties were grown, so it wasn't uncommon for them to make their desires known or to request sex out of a person they found physically attractive. (Y/N) was comfortable enough in herself to enjoy casual sex, but she had sky **-** high standards, and the person she planned to seduce had to strike every prerequisite she listed. Thanks to that, she hasn't gotten around too much, because she'd usually terminate the one night trial as soon as she got the feeling she wasn't going to cum. 

Being straightforward, apparently, was rude when it came to being a woman, so it drove all of the shitty men off. She'd rather be alone than to deal with folks who didn't meet her standards.   
  
  


However, for the first time in a minute, a man stood in front of her that met most of her requirements. The only obstacle that prevented her from ending the night with a _"bang!"_ was the horribly timed cycle that came entirely too early for its own good. _'You wanted a baby, right? Well, don't bleed right when you could've got one!' (She wasn't going to have a baby anyway, thanks to the birth control she started taking a couple months ago.)_  
  
  


"That ain't no problem, miss. C'mon, I'll walk you out. It's late, and these parts are pretty bad when it hits 12," Bokuto still held onto her tanned hand with his own inked one, making sure nobody could take her while he wasn't looking.   
  
  


He noticed plenty of folks from gangs in the same rink, all catching glances at the woman who dropped onto her knees whilst skating. Even with the dim lights adorned in the almost blinding neon stripes dancing around the building, there was a reason why he was called _'Nightcrawler'._ Not even the tiniest speck could get past his animalistic eyesight, which aided to the reason he was able to climb the ladder of the underworld so quickly. Faces, names, pseudos, and abilities ran past his head every time his eyes met with one of the gangsters who skated in circles, much contrary to the folks he was looking at, who couldn't even so much as see more than six feet in front of them. The Nightcrawler could sneak into spaces and stay undetected for as long as he desired, for he had the eyes to see through the shadows of this world. Nightcrawler didn't need a fortune teller to predict the future outcome of whatever situation he was placed in.   
  
  


He took up the similarities of an owl, who could see and visualize perceptions that others couldn't, analyze their vicinity like a computer, and scrutinize their prey from miles away, all while avoiding distinguishability to the world. The skating rink acted as a twilight zone, for the witching hour was the Nightcrawler's den **—** the Nightcrawler's natural habitat.   
  
  


"Thank you, Ko. I had fun tonight."  
  
  


Taking the form of an owl was both a blessing and a curse, for they retained the ability to never fumble whatever stood in the distance. However, that same blessing only allowed far-sighted vision **—** not nearsighted vision. The Nightcrawler, gifted with one of the best abilities you could achieve as a druglord, had one weakness. Just like an owl, he couldn't analyze what occupied his nearest optics. The Nightcrawler couldn't see whatever stood in front of him, even if as clear as day or as detectable as a single cactus erect in the middle of the Sahara Desert, he couldn't scrutinize the folks that positioned themselves in close vicinity to him. 

His biggest weakness was allowing people to be in the same proximity as him.   
  
  


His biggest weakness consisted of his closest friends.   
  
  


"I had fun tonight, too, (Y/N)."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 **"** **WHAT YOU TOLD ME,**  
 **CAN'T** **TAKE THAT BACK.**  
 **WHAT I TOLD YOU,**  
 **CAN'T TAKE THAT BACK.** **"**

 **—** **LIL UZI** **. |** **SCOTT AND RAMONA**

______________________________

**_CHAPTER INSPO_ ** **_:_ **  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. HOLD MY LIQUOR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) - Your Name
> 
> (L/N) - Last Name
> 
> (H/C) - Hair Color
> 
> (E/C) - Eye Color
> 
> (B/T) - Body Type
> 
> (H/N) - Height Number
> 
> (E/N) - Ethnicity
> 
> (F/F) - Favorite Food
> 
> [I apologize for not making this list earlier!!]

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"SOMEBODY,**   
**GOTTA BE THE BAD GUY.**   
**I HAD A BAD DAY AT WORK.**   
**DON'T WANNA HAVE**   
**A BAD NIGHT."**

**— KANYE WEST. | BAD NIGHT/CAPRISUN (UNRELEASED)**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


"Crawler, where were you last night? You missed the whole thing!"  
  
  


 _Nightcrawler_ ensconced his lower body in the driver's seat of a slick black 1960 Cadillac DeVille convertible adorned in bright orange leather seats. The hood was drawn back, permitting him to peer across the door and stare at one of his closest friends, _Nine_. He most certainly didn't forget the deal that descended onto one of the abandoned factories in the outermost sections of Miami, he simply had no desire to tolerate folks that tested his patience in every deal.  
  
  


"Did they try to scam us again?" _Nightcrawler_ asked, turning the ignition off and feeling for his pocket.  
  
  


"Yeah, which is why I _asked_ you to be there. We only got a quarter of the money, so—"  
  
  


"Who was it again?"  
  
  


 _Nightcrawler_ reached in the rear of his vehicle and tugged on a white cloth strapped to the floor, unveiling an assault rifle with two boxes of bullets that glistened underneath the unnerving moonlight, preceding an occurrence that wouldn't end so good. _Nine_ stood outside the vehicle with that same shit-eating grin he continuously wore, approving of the idea _Nightcrawler_ had in mind. After all, there was a reason _Nine_ called up _Nightcrawler_ during the dead of night, for this was his playground. He knew he could pluck the best performance out of his most trusted partner if his summoning proceeded after the sun set.  
  
  


"Johzenji."  
  
  


"Hm, no wonder. They've been on thin ice for a minute. I've been meaning to put that asshole of a _leader_ on a T-shirt _,_ " _Nightcrawler_ replied, tossing the assault rifle to the tall ravenette and divulging his own Glock 17 from his pocket.  
  
  


"You still didn't answer my question, Crawler."  
  
  


"What question?" he acted as if _Nine_ didn't inquire his whereabouts the other day.  
  
  


"Where were you last night? I know you have decent comprehension skills."  
  
  


The _Nightcrawler_ didn't respond, for he was too busy loading the bullets in his Glock 17, tossing the next box to _Nine_ so he could cease his interrogation.  
  
  


"What are you, the feds?"  
  
  


"Now that's just disrespectful, Crawler. Was it a girl?"  
  
  


"..."  
  
  


 _Nightcrawler_ didn't respond, earning a hefty shriek of enjoyment from his business partner. _Nine_ knew it wasn't uncommon for his friend to come in contact with women thanks to the bad boy appearance he wore, but, to _Nine_ , he was still that baby bird who joined the underworld out of desperation. Genuinely seeing himself and _Nightcrawler_ grow into figures just as big as _Sanguine_ has been both an emotional and entertaining ride. Just four years ago, a year after Sanguine fell, _Nightcrawler_ wouldn't touch a gun for his life due to the fact he was so new and uneducated about not only the lifestyle, but the history. Now, he was casually tossing an assault rifle to his murderous friend and loaded a Glock 17 without a single cell of hesitation in his body.  
  
  


 _Nightcrawler_ pulled a black hoodie over his _still_ unwaxed hair and slid a black ski mask over his face, making sure to cover his identifiable tattoos in utmost precision. _Nine_ shrugged his shoulders and dressed himself in similar clothes, also acting as a lookout in case the deserted parking lot wasn't as deserted as they thought. Fortunately, he didn't detect any lurkers, so he placed the strap of the assault rifle over his chest and tightened the waterproof boots he wore, aware that the duo was about to paint a canvas of bloody reds and tearful blues.  
  
  


"It's always nice to have a girl. I hope this one is sustainable, though," _Nine_ cackled again, scoring a distressed wail out of his partner.  
  
  


"Don't _remind_ me," he sulked, dragging his fingers through his loose hair.  
  
  


"Now, c'mon, let's remind that fuckass criminal to not mess with Augusta," he continued.  
  
  


"We're criminals, too, y'know."  
  
  


"But _we're_ lords. He's bottom-of-the-barrel, easily disposable trash that, if caught by the law, he'd go to jail. You and I don't run that risk," _Nightcrawler_ drew a sinister grin atop his lips, invisible to the naked eye, though, due to his ski mask.  
  
  


"Augusta would hate hearing that," _Nine_ placed a black beanie over his easily recognizable bedhead.  
  
  


" _Fine_ , I'll stop being mean," he pouted.  
  
  


"Good. Next time, tell us when you decide to get some before bailing out."  
  
  


"No promises, I don't know when her cycle ends."  
  
  


 _"CRAWLER, YOU NASTY BASTARD_ — _"_  
  
  


...  
  
  


Amid the witching hour, a gallivant mass we call the moon proudly hangs over the Earth, watching and witnessing every act of kindness, sensuality, and violence that occurred underneath her deathless eyes. Unlike the sun, the moon seized parades of the deepest desires whispered below her, especially the aspirations made known at exactly 11:11 PM. Contradictory to the sun, the moon watched her children in their natural habitats, making it known to the moon, and the moon only, what her children were really like. Only _she_ knew of the real humans.  
  
  


The moon relished in the pleasure of witnessing multiple soap operas a night, some coated in passionate pinks, some coated in ravenous reds, and others coated in rhythmic blues. On this particular night, in a particular section of Miami, she rubbernecked one of the bloodiest, sanguine paradises she's ever been gifted witness to. It also just happened to be that in two weeks, officially five years ago, Miami held one of the most astronomical massacre's known to man. The fall of Sanguine held many tragic and innocent deaths, saddening the moon so remarkably to the point she flooded half of Miami in pure, inconceivable rage.  
  
  


After that event, no druglord or gangster who was active during that time permitted themselves to talk about it, raising an entire generation of _soon-to-take-over_ lords who had no idea what truly happened to Sanguine that night. Even the most prominent, most monumental druglords had no idea what transpired of Sanguine's leader— _Roman: The Gunslinger_.  
  
  


Where was Roman now?  
  
  


The moon wouldn't tell a soul.  
  
  


The moon was bound by the chains of the soundless universe, unable to utter a word of what she's seen in the dead of night. She was going to die with those visions, never allowing people who didn't already attain night vision to heed the darkest secrets on earth. Whatever knowledge the sun knew was simply a shell of what the moon contained.  
  
  


The sun told secrets; the moon couldn't.  
  
  


A woman shuffled in her bed sheets under the potent moonlight, opening her crusty eyes to wipe whatever clogged her vision. Her ears were ringing with the recognizable racket of her phone going off, irritated at the fact she forgot to put it on _Do Not Disturb_ like she consistently did. It didn't matter if her great grandma was on her death bed at 3:00 AM, she was going to get her beauty rest whether she had to murder for it or cut off the world for it.  
  
  


She aggressively slammed her hand on the nightstand to pick up the phone, pressing answer while adjusting her bonnet to match her hairline instead of plonking over her lids like an eye-mask. (Y/N) didn't bother to check what type of call it was, so when she marked the face of a tattooed man in an annoying smile, along with her raggedy-looking side of the screen, she amplified a scowl like no other.  
  
  


" _Goodmorningggg_!" he dragged out, seemingly out of breath as if he just finished a run around the neighborhood.  
  
  


(Y/N) didn't care for the breathlessness in his tone, nor did she even notice it. She just wanted to go back to sleep.  
  
  


"There is _no_ ethical reason why you're up this late," she groaned, placing the phone in front of her so he could understand she didn't appreciate the late night call.  
  
  


She tried to go to sleep as early as possible in order to avoid requests like booty-calls or late night hookups. If a boy texted her, _"hey,"_ at 3:00 AM, she responded at 9:00 AM with, _"Sorry, what did you need?"_ Of course, the exchange always ended in a, _"nevermind."_  
  
  


"They call me _Nightcrawler_ for a reason," he winked, making the girl roll her eyes and position herself upright on the headboard.  
  
  


"Okay, _Nightcrawler_ , what's up with you? Did you just get back from selling drugs," (Y/N) cackled similar to a vile hyena.  
  
  


Referring to men by their street names was something (Y/N) refused to do; she'd use their full government name when given the chance. It was stupid of her, who wasn't in that lifestyle, to refer to a love-interest as if he was her business partner in cocaine dealing. Plus, half of their nicknames contained dumb shit such as _'Fat Daddy'_ or _'Bandz'_ , meanwhile they're neither _fat_ , a _father_ , or _rich_ in any way, shape, or form. _Nightcrawler_ , on the other hand, seemed to live up to his nickname, unfortunately.  
  
  


"Yes, actually," Bokuto provoked (Y/N) to choke on her midnight mucus.  
  
  


She, by no means, meant to predict his line of work or put him in danger because of who, perchance, could've been standing in close vicinity to him, like an opp of some sort. (Y/N) was known for making jokes of the sort and telling her mama she was selling drugs in Liberty just to give her a heart attack. Even though she could've long ago guessed his line of work, thanks to his appearance, she hated judging books by their cover _(at least, if they approached her nicely)_ because she used to be accused of possessing traits she never held in the first place.  
  
  


(Y/N) didn't panic, though, when she noticed he held a sincere smile on his face.  
  
  


"You sell? Word, what you got on you? I need an ounce. My dealer made me mad about a week ago and I ran out," she wanted to support his hustle and stock up on weed in case her friend decided to piss her off again.  
  
  


Bokuto was taken aback at the chill request he received, though he didn't show it. He guessed he was wrong in her level of laidback-ness, for she seemed to have no problem in talking to drug dealers. He started to ponder, what would she say if she knew she was in the presence of a _druglord_? He put that thought aside, nonetheless, for he didn't want another woman to evade him out of fear of a nonexistent threat.  
  
  


"Yeah, only a couple, though. I just got paid real nicely, so let's go out to eat after a smoke sesh'!"  
  
  


" _Ooo_ , what's even open right now?" (Y/N) asked, tightening the silk robe she slept naked in, gliding her bunny slippers on, and heaving herself from the sunken mattress.  
  
  


She entered her bathroom and flickered the lights on, wincing in response to the bright light her pupils had to adjust themselves to. Whilst removing her bonnet and untwisting the six twists she put her hair in, Bokuto continued to list the amount of restaurants in the area which were open at this ungodly hour. She felt like the list went for eternity, since she almost finalized untwisting her thick hair and he was still counting.  
  
  


"Oh, wait, that second to last one you listed sounds nice. I haven't had (E/N) food in a hot minute," she untwisted the last piece, using her hands to poof up the hair and add more volume to the blown-out locks.  
  
  


"Which is odd, really, for living in this area. Anyway, what's the vibes looking like over there? Because I'm not dressing nicer than a white tee and sweatpants."  
  
  


"It looks chill. I'll match your energy because I don't feel like putting on anything nice either," he laughed, watching the bottom of (Y/N)'s chin as she cleaned her face up.  
  
  


"Ko, you got something on your cheek," (Y/N) noticed after she finished drying her face.  
  
  


She walked back inside of her bedroom and set the phone aside, dressing herself in the clothes she promised to wear—an oversized white tee that dropped just above her knees and gray sweatpants that looked like they originally belonged to a sumo wrestler. Of course she drew up similarities to a bum, but she was a cute bum, so she settled for her blown-out hair to rest in front of her face like bangs and for the rest to poof out.  
  
  


"Oh, it's ketchup," Bokuto replied, chuckling into the FaceTime call.  
  
  


"You already ate? Without me? I can't believe you'd do this!"  
  
  


"It was a mistake, babe, I promise those fries meant nothing to me."  
  
  


"If you don't care about me, just say that," (Y/N) picked up the unattended phone and dramatically wailed, putting on a show so she could awaken herself more.  
  
  


She was still a bit dozy after just being woken out of her sleep, but Bokuto aided in reviving her brain into a conscious state.  
  
  


"Don't do me like that, doll," he pouted while (Y/N) finally noticed he wasn't inside, but outside. In fact, the background around him seemed to speed around much faster than a human being could walk. She heard the honk of a horn and finally came to her senses, realizing he was in a convertible and wasn't running at 70 MPH.  
  
  


"Tell me why I thought you were running at 70 miles per hour instead of riding a car?" (Y/N) laughed at her own stupidity, amused at how dense she could be when exhausted.  
  
  


"If I tried hard enough maybe I could! Anyway, where do you live? I'm coming right now," Bokuto winked at the phone.  
  
  


"I live right between Little Haiti and Morningside, let me type in the address real quick."  
  
  


...  
  
  


" _Ugh_ , _wait_ , this is my _song_."  
  
  


"You said that about 20 other songs inside the skating rink."  
  
  


"What's in the past stays in the past, baby."  
  
  


"How could you lie like that to your twinsie?"  
  
  


It's been a long time since (Y/N) was gifted the chance to ride in a convertible—a _Cadillac_ at that. She couldn't recall the last time she cruised in a _real_ car, for living with herself for so long prompted her to constantly seethe in loneliness, add that to the fact she exchanged her car for a motorcycle over seven years ago. Her eyes scanned the skyscrapers Bokuto zoomed by, falling in adoration of the lights stretching past them. Fast-paced air soothed her face and cooled her muscles down from the heat Miami bore almost year round. She was very familiar with the downtown area, for it literally only required a handful of minutes to drive down I-95, but to see it with a wider lens and to be free from the restricting helmet really opened up a perception of the city she hasn't experienced in a long time.  
  
  


 _'Throw Some D's'_ boomed through the speakers and vibrated the car every time the bass dropped, hyping (Y/N) up in the middle of the oddly bustling streets of downtown. Folks were probably returning home from the club, so, in about an hour or two, she could expect the streets to be a bit more deserted.  
  
  


"Do you come downtown often?" he asked, referring to the idolizing stares she bestowed upon every building they crossed.  
  
  


"Oh, yeah I do. I ride a motorcycle, though, so I don't get to relinquish in the drop-top experience," she replied with a smile.  
  
  


"Have you rode in a convertible before?"  
  
  


"I haven't even rode a regular car in over seven years. I exchanged my car for a motorcycle a long time ago, plus, I don't have any fam' down here," a mellow smile crossed (Y/N) lips as Bokuto tried to think of a response that didn't bulge in her personal space, as much as he wanted it to.  
  
  


"Oh? Why the change in vehicles?"  
  
  


"It helped me get through tight places cars couldn't fit. Plus, they're cheaper."  
  
  


"You did say _'cheap'_ was your middle name the other night!"  
  
  


"You did not have to rub that in my face!"  
  
  


"You said it, not me!"  
  
  


After bickering about everything ranging from the best motorcycles to buy to which insect they found the creepiest, Bokuto pulled his vehicle up to a large parking lot that housed several abandoned stores. All were decorated in broken windows and (Y/N) suspected they were either looted or used as meeting spots for folks who had no business being out this late at night, but she didn't mind. There were levels to things that'd terrify a person, however, as long as they kept a cool head and a cool piece of metal with them, they'd be just fine.  
  
  


(Y/N) leaned her seat back, looking at Bokuto from across the armrest.  
  
  


"I suck at rolling blunts, by the way," she snickered, earning an eye roll in response.  
  
  


"I don't let ladies touch it, anyway. Wouldn't wanna dirty your hands."  
  
  


"What a gentleman," she watched his inky hands shift the already grinded weed in a rolling paper, wasting close to no specks on the floor whilst rapidly folding the blunt.  
  
  


He stuck his tongue out to seal the deal, dragging it teasingly across the long-side of the remaining tip of unrolled paper. The just barely noticeable string of saliva that connected Bokuto's lips to the blunt didn't go undetected by (Y/N), nor did the determined look in his eyes to make sure it was good enough for the pair to smoke on. (Y/N) ogled at his tongue piercing that receded back into his mouth, noticing an assured heartbeat that didn't _beat_ in her _heart_. While Bokuto was busy searching for the lighter he swore he left in the car, his muscles flexed and tightened in the close-fitted white tee he decided to wear in honor of matching (hence, the _twinsies_ ). She didn't even desire to look down at the gray sweatpants garnishing his body, for she knew she'd act feral if she even shifted her gaze past his biceps.  
  
  


"Fuck, wait, I think...I got it! Yes!"  
  
  


The music on the radio deviated from its hype mood just a few minutes ago to a slow, sensual blues, replacing the music for the rest of the night. Obviously, the moon favored (Y/N) in which telling her to get some since she also just hopped off her cycle, but she was dressed in granny panties and no bra, meaning the _girlies_ were free of any and all support. The woman was far from sexy, so she left the thought of sex at the back of her mind once she saw a cloud of smoke rising from Bokuto's lips.  
  
  


_'You damned pretty boy.'_   
  
  


"Sorry, _twin_ , I don't usually take the first hit. I had a lot on my mind," he chuckled nervously, passing the blunt to (Y/N).  
  
  


Instead of allowing her fingers to touch the rancid blunt, he held it up to her mouth and signaled her to breathe in, holding onto the object so she wouldn't have to dirty her hands. (Y/N)'s mouth opened back up and moved away from the blunt, allowing the smoke to leave her mouth itself without blowing out. She liked to watch the smog calmly rise at its own pace, undisturbed by any forces of air that squeezed it out of its element. She could definitely say, though, that she enjoyed watching Bokuto's face twist in attraction from the way she allowed the smoke to leave her lips.  
  
  


"You're a fine woman, (Y/N)."  
  
  


"And you're a fine man, Ko," she replied, moving her head forward to take another hit before she drew back, allowing Bokuto to tug his hand back to his side.  
  
  


"You said you had a lot on your mind, wanna let that weight off your shoulders?" (Y/N) suggested, planning on not taking it to heart if he didn't want to spill. After all, he was involved in a serious business that required no snitching of any kind. (Y/N) knew of that part personally.  
  
  
  


Bokuto placed his right hand on the wheel, using his left to take another hit of the blunt. His face contorted in contemplation and it surprised (Y/N) to know he was considering telling her what was on his mind. She, unconsciously, placed a hand atop Bokuto's built shoulder, snapping him from his state of confusion and allowing him to refocus on the moment.  
  
  


"Hey, hey, don't worry about it, Ko. You don't need to tell a stranger shit you don't wanna tell."  
  
  


"That's the problem, though! You don't feel like a stranger right now."  
  
  


(Y/N)'s face scrunched up, unknowing on how she should feel at the moment. It wasn't everyday she'd sense her heartbeat speed up from conversation with a male interest; none of them held the ability to mesmerize her to that degree. However, no other male interest offered a smoke session either. She could deduce it was the weed, she _knew_ it was the weed. But, some part of herself wanted to convince her rational brain that Bokuto took up a _real_ interest in her, not just a feeling of lust. She didn't mind lust at all, in fact, she encouraged it so the men could get the hell up out of her bed when they rode out their final orgasms; she made sure they felt like uninvited strangers the moment she received her post-nut clarity.  
  
  


Was it due to the withholding of her sensitives that a feeling continued to float between the pair? Once they both gave up their bodies to each other, would moments like these even matter?  
  
  


_Why was she so concerned with moments like these mattering to her?_   
  
  


"I interacted with you enough to know you're trustworthy."  
  
  


It escaped (Y/N)'s memory that you can most definitely tell who a person is by observing them for long enough. In fact, she used to do it constantly until it came to a point where analyzing sickened her, so she opted to take on the world with a blindfold wrapped around her senses. With eyes like Bokuto's, she knew he was observing her like a predator watching its prey, predicting its next moves so it could pounce. Sometimes, she forgot how much she allowed her persona to be an open book, so she accepted the statement without protest.  
  
  


"Snitches get stitches, Ko," she replied.  
  
  


Bokuto smiled and held his fist up, prompting a fist bump with a little explosion out of the couple's hands.  
  
  


"See? You're no stranger."  
  
  


(Y/N) tensed a bit at his words, though, she relaxed her shoulders when the blunt was, once again, presented to her lips.  
  
  


"So, what's got you up so late?" she inquired following the calm smoke rising from her open mouth.  
  
  


"A friend of mine got shorted money for a shipment."  
  
  


Bokuto looked down at his lap, but he still held the object in his hands to not inconvenience (Y/N).  
  
  


"Really? You beat his ass, though, right?"  
  
  


"More than that."  
  
  


A silence hummed over the pair, though it was far from awkward or uncomfortable. It was the type of silence that allowed thoughts and opinions to sink deeper into their minds, helping them form proper responses.  
  
  


"If you're wondering about whether you're a good person or not, I can tell you right now that it's justified."  
  
  


"How do you know that? What if he had a family? What if his underlings had families?"  
  
  


"He _had_ a family, which was his _gang_. He deliberately put them in danger for his selfish desires, so he probably needed a couple bullets to decorate his body, anyway. The rest of them ran with the risk of dying behind the gang."  
  
  


Bokuto was, once again, taken aback by what left (Y/N)'s mouth. The woman was intriguing from the start, especially the moment she requested two goats and a diamond necklace. To Bokuto, there seemed to always be so much more to discover about her, which further drew him towards the mysterious figure. At the end of last night, thanks to a FaceTime call he held around the same time, he swore he had her figured out. Yet, she continued to spiral the man into a pit of confusion, no longer permitting the cockiness of thinking he had her figured out.  
  
  


No, there was so much more to uncover, and he started to understand this the longer he kept in contact with her.  
  
  


"Oh? How do you know so much about gang rules?"  
  
  


"I know a few folks. I mean, I live next to those hotspots, _so..._ " she smiled, pushing the still upheld blunt back towards Bokuto.  
  
  


"Anyway, like I said before, the dude did it to himself. Unfortunately, it just happened to be you who served as the grim reaper, so don't sweat it, baby. You're just fine in my eyes."  
  
  


(Y/N) had no room to judge Bokuto to any degree. She was unnervingly considerate and understanding with _murder_ of all subjects, but she couldn't help it. She knew the street rules, she knew what type of lifestyle he lived, so who was she to pass sentence? (Y/N) told herself she was birthed on this earth to enjoy whatever's been presented to her; she wasn't going to allow a _puritan_ decide who she could and couldn't interact with.  
  
  


Unlike the merciful, untelling moon, earth was both a kind and ruthless foe. Earth was a two-faced antagonist that'd work in your favor whenever it wanted to. The planet the human race currently resides on didn't discriminate in who it decided to relay a desultory fate onto, relinquishing in the tears and blood that dried upon the dirt of its surface. One could say that earth was an unforgiving personage of the same humans it inhabited; another could say the earth was only dishing out the harm humans set upon the earth's beautiful plant children.  
  
  


However, no matter what they thought of, (Y/N) always knew of a certain thing called _destiny_. Some destinies ended far faster and more tragically than others, and some destinies included being one of the greatest enemies to humanity. No matter what, deserved karma will fall back onto every human on this earth. Whether in life or in death, it didn't miss a single soul. (Y/N) knew this, so she refused to criticize the world around her. Her unconscious fear was that either in life or death, she'd be judged by the abominable, execrable actions against humanity she's committed in her past.  
  
  
  


Thereupon, she had no room to condemn the lifestyles folks chose to live, for she had her fair share of skeletons in her closet.  
  
  


"You're a real comforting person, you know that?" Bokuto leaned his seat back as well, staring at the transparent stars that hung over the pair.  
  
  


The far away planets above gleamed brighter than directly in the city, watching the earth below them intensely. They stood witness to the phases that passed through not only (Y/N) and Bokuto's developing compassion towards each other, but every other human in the entire world as well. (Y/N) and Bokuto's story was one of many, but one of a kind, so they quite enjoyed and encouraged the chrysalis between the pair.  
  
  


"It's nothing, really. Can I ask another question?"  
  
  


"Shoot!"  
  
  


"What do the tattoos mean?"  
  
  


Bokuto playfully groaned with a smile on his face, dragging his free hand down his face.  
  
  


"You _love_ personal questions, huh?"  
  
  


"I'm a nosy person, Ko. It's in my family genes," she snickered, tapping his arm so he could allow her another hit of the blunt.  
  
  


He extended his arm once again, apologizing for hogging the weed.  
  
  


"Anyway, where do I even start?"  
  
  


"How about...the kanji on your face? What does it mean?" she took one last hit out of the weed before he retracted his muscled limb towards himself.  
  
  


"Ah, it stands for _'captain'_! I used to be the captain of my old volleyball team back in Japan, so it's like a little homage to them!"  
  
  


"You played volleyball?! In Japan? That's so cool! Let me guess, you were the wing spiker? Your back tells me everything I need to know."  
  
  


"Yup, outside hitter."  
  
  


"That's amazing, man. You gotta tell me more of your stories at the diner. Anyway, off track, so let me reposition myself. What do the rest of the tattoos mean?"  
  
  


"They mean a whole bunch of nothing," Bokuto laughed after he saw (Y/N) choke on her own spit, coughing up furiously at the response she received.  
  
  


"NOTHING?! Twin, explain!"  
  
  


"I got them out of insecurity," Bokuto turned his head to meet (Y/N)'s, adorning a lazy smile and bloodshot eyes.  
  
  


He was high enough to touch the stars, feeling sufficiently relaxed to tell the woman beside him everything there was to know about him. A buzz ringed in the back of his head, entrancing him in a state of peace and forgetfulness from what just occurred two hours ago. When Bokuto turned his head to stare at the lady he brought along, all he could hear chanting in his head were praises meant for her lips, her voice, her skin, her hair, her eyes, and her unique persona that seemed to further entrap him the longer he stared. Words flew out of her mouth, but he couldn't discern a thing, for his mind and his eyes were placed somewhere else than in the reality she resided in. All he could make out from her were the small pouts her face contorted into once she realized he was too high to listen, reaching her arms out to rotate his head around a bit.  
  
  


Bokuto's ears finally woke up and he could auscultate the kinky-haired woman complaining about how she didn't know how to drive a Cadillac, worried she would have to drag him back to her place.  
  
  


"I'm conscious, I'm conscious," he slurred a bit, still holding onto that lazy smile which showcased his sharp canine tooth.  
  
  


"Barely, pretty boy. Can you even drive in this state?"  
  
  


(Y/N) was caught off guard at the rough hand that engulfed the back part of her neck, sensing shivers run up and down her spine at the sight of Bokuto closing in until their foreheads were separated by a single millimetre of space. His inked hands softly pressed into the sides of her neck, only allowing a little bit of air to be released and admitted into her lungs. An alacritous heartbeat was induced the moment his hands met her skin; the pounding was so brisk and eager that even Bokuto could discern it without having to press his ear onto her breast—as much as he wanted to. A fully conscious smirk crammed to the brim with mischief and intoxication formed on his lips, undoubtedly aware of the effect he had on (Y/N), as much as she tried to hide it. In response, he tightened his grip only a little further and brought his lips up to her ears to whisper the next set of exchanges.  
  
  


"Wanna test that, _doll_?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"I CAN HOLD MY LIQUOR.**   
**THIS MAN CAN'T HANDLE**   
**HIS WEED. DARK AND**   
**LONELY NOW."**

**— JUSTIN VERNON. | HOLD MY LIQUOR**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
  
  


**_CHAPTER INSPO:_ **   
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(Gonna put this here again just cuz_ 😫✋🏽 _)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I'm feral for Bokuto rolling blunts😫✋🏽


	3. CAN'T FEEL MY FACE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORD COUNT: 7.7K  
> TW: high as fuck💨, choking, semi-public oral, lol enjoy you feral fangirls

**"I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE**   
**WHEN I'M WITH YOU.**   
**BUT I LOVE IT."**

**— THE WEEKND | CAN'T FEEL MY FACE**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


_'Moonwalking'_ was the only term in the English dictionary that could accurately describe and portray the pure amount of THC in Bokuto's and (Y/N)'s bloodstream. The pair felt they were so high in the sky that they soared throughout the universe, hopping from planet to planet in search of a particular treasure. With their hands raised in the air, they swore they could touch the surface of Mars itself, feeling upon its sanguine-like dirt. Even though air itself wasn't present throughout space, the pair's hair flew past them speedily once the sensation of brisk winds collided with their cheeks. They didn't need air in order to breathe and inhale in each other's presence. They didn't need the earth in any way, shape, or form to feel the ground-ness they felt when in each other's arms. They didn't need space itself to feel like they defied gravity, soaring through the forever in anticipation of what was next. Would they run into the galactic enforcement? Would they have to stay on the run? Would they come in contact with the end of the universe? Would they continue on and on in search of a treasure that didn't exist? The pair didn't know nor did they give a damn, for they were on a journey through time like no other, in search of a treasure they weren't even sure existed in the first place.  
  
  


What was this treasure, you might ask?  
  
  


"Ko, you have no idea where the _fuck_ you're going."  
  
  


"Yes the _fuck_ I do. The restaurant is literally around this corner!"  
  
  


"We're not even in Miami anymore! You drove all the way to Lauderdale! The restaurant is in downtown Miami!"  
  
  


"Well, I guess this is a fucking road trip now!"  
  
  


"Then at _least_ go south so we can eat, _damn_!"   
  
  


Bokuto and (Y/N) cackled loudly, slurring on every word they uttered while (Y/N) laid her head on Bokuto's shoulder. Oddly enough, he possessed the ability to drive as if he were sober while touching the sky at the same time, but he couldn't seem to get his act together when spoken to, nor could he follow clear cut directions.  
  
  


"I could always eat _you_ instead."  
  
  


"You _could_ , but we'll both still be hungry, lost, and tired. Ah—you know what? Give me that damn wheel, I'ma learn how to drive a Cadillac tonight."  
  
  


"I'm the only sober adult in this car!"  
  
  


"You hogged the blunt towards the end! You're higher than me!"  
  
  


Bokuto couldn't argue with her, taking a U-turn at a random light and driving south once again. The streets around them were void of all life, almost as if it were the apocalypse and the Cadillac held the only two living human beings on the planet. In a way, it did feel like the two were the only ones in the world, relishing in each other's auras as if there was nothing else left for them in this deathly, passionless province. Out of desperation and excitement of witnessing different sceneries, they constructed a cylinder-like rocket ship and agreed to visit the skies in search of a purpose of some sort, hand-in-hand. As the last two humans, they weren't sure what they'd collide into on their journey throughout the dimensions. All they knew was that they had each other to cling onto, a partner who stood with their back against the other in search of any force that threatened their security—their amour.  
  
  


"Can you type in the address of the place? I'm using all my attention to make sure we don't end up in another countryside," Bokuto asked, handing his unlocked phone to the (H/C) haired woman.  
  
  


"Okay, just get on 95 and we'll start following these directions. It's only 20 minutes, thank the lord."  
  
  


"20 minutes? Damn, I'm hungry!"  
  
  


"We would've been there if you didn't take all these wrong turns! And, look, there's a fucking plantation home! Does that look like downtown Miami to you?" (Y/N) pointed out a large crop field that adorned a manor in the center of it, grouped with other most likely racist homes that lined up the street and seemingly went on for miles.  
  
  


"If I get shot, I'm haunting you!!"  
  
  


"No way, I'll cause a genocide before that happens."  
  
  


"Just... _just_ _drive_. I'm _stressed_. Thanks for stressing me out."  
  
  


"It's no problem, doll. Always happy to help!"  
  
  


"You will not see heaven," (Y/N) laughed without meaning to, dragging her hands down her face before she paused in hesitation.  
  
  


"Ko...I can't feel my face."  
  
  


"Huh?"  
  
  


(Y/N) didn't notice the way the fast winds ceased to hit her face, yet her hair still wildly flew behind her. She was entirely too enraptured in the night time and the stress Bokuto gave her to notice the numbing of her face. (Y/N) has most definitely taken drugs before, nothing crazy like cocaine, but she's smoked an ounce and popped a few Adderall's before college classes just to get by. However, she's never smoked or inserted any damn drug in her body that numbed her face. Not even the fattest blunt gave her that effect, so she was convinced Bokuto must lace his blunts with something else to produce stronger effects. It was no wonder he stood in possession of a Cadillac, his customers probably tipped him from how loud his weed shrieked.  
  
  


"I literally cannot feel my face."  
  
  


" _Ahh_ , that's the best part. You're finally reaching peak highness."  
  
  


(Y/N) whipped her head to the side to stare at her equally as high counterpart.  
  
  


"Peak?! So, what transpired during this hour of driving aimlessly wasn't even the peak?! I swear to the moon above you're not seeing heaven."  
  
  


"I can make sure _you_ see heaven, though," he turned his owl-like gaze towards (Y/N), entrapping her in a feeling of difficulty.  
  
  


"If you know what I me—"  
  
  


"I know exactly what you mean, babyboy."  
  
  


"Why can't you be as romantic as me?" he sulked, turning on his blinker to move into a different lane even though there weren't any cars in sight for a couple of miles.  
  
  


(Y/N), normally, wouldn't care if somebody called her unromantic, because that's exactly what she was when sober. She wasn't an expert at opening up and loving on just anybody, which prompted the downfall of her past affairs. Romance wasn't an activity (Y/N) divulged in often, and, now that she thought about it, it's been a couple of years since she's truly been loved on. Not just as a factor of lust, but genuine romance.  
  
  


"I can be romantic!" she retorted, knowing well she's rusty on her _'loving'_ skills.  
  
  


She just didn't appreciate the deepening in her heart when he called her unromantic, especially with these unacknowledged feelings she didn't plan on making known any time soon. She despised how quickly she took interest in a man who was the actual personification of _trouble_ and _not_ _normal_ ,making it clear to the girl that she simply couldn't stay away from trouble. (Y/N) couldn't avoid the silhouettes that continued to creep up on her despite her mother begging and wailing for the girl to live a normal lifestyle.  
  
  


_She was supposed to push him away. That's what her mother would want._   
  
  


_She was supposed to be finishing her homework. That's what her auntie would want._   
  
  


_She was supposed to be dating a religious man with zero tattoos and a doctorate. That's what her grandma would want._   
  
  


But, at this point, with the moon looking down on her in approval, _who gave a damn_?  
  
  


"Really, now? Show me," Bokuto challenged in a teasing voice, pulling the car over to a mini abandoned rest stop.  
  
  


At this time of night, it truly did feel like the couple were the only two alive in the universe, being pushed to act out on their instincts due to virtually nothing holding them back. In the dead of night, nothing held one back from demonstrating their true natures to the moon. In fact, the moon encouraged her insignificant children to be truthful under her eyes, for there wasn't anything in the universe she hasn't already seen. She rooted for the shadows to throw over and rake up the entire body of her dear human beings, resulting in pinks, reds, and blues being splashed over the canvas she calls earth. She's heard many tears, blood drops, and white liquids drench the surface of the planet she forever rotated, so you can bet she altered Bokuto and (Y/N)'s psyches to get them to act on the sprouting emotions they harbored for each other.  
  
  


(Y/N) placed her hands on either side of Bokuto's face, watching his lips turn up in a smirk at her pride that wouldn't allow her to turn down the challenging tone in his voice.  
  
  


"You got it, doll," he encouraged, allowing her to take the lead in proving herself as romantic.  
  
  


She didn't need much more pushing than she already fell victim to from Bokuto's teasing smirk and the bright full moon enhancing the mood. However, her family's nagging pleas at the back of her mind were finally shined light upon, provoking her to cease her actions and lead an honorable life of normalcy.  
  
  


"We've known each other for _one_ day..." she began to remove her hands from his cheeks before he spoke up again, compelling her hands to remain in place.  
  
  


"Fuck that, who cares?"  
  
  


Bokuto raised his right hand to keep her left one in place, shooting an intimidating and daring gaze in (Y/N)'s eyes. Her body refused to move another inch, as if it knew exactly what doubts (Y/N) harbored and acted against them. She could also deduce it was the temerarious leer Bokuto transmitted that froze her in place like a deer caught in headlights, unable to execute any form of action until the crash ensued.  
  
  


_"Who put a time limit on love, anyway?"_   
  
  


That's all (Y/N) needed to close the already tiny gap between the pair, moving her pinkish-brown lips in synchronization with Bokuto's own lips. She was, by no means, inexperienced, taking Bokuto by surprise when she roughly pushed onto his side, backing his rear against the door while she crawled over the middle section with ease. (Y/N) didn't care that there wasn't a hood to hide the pair from lurking eyes, for she was more concerned in quenching her thirst for his body in an unethical manner. Bokuto's hands rose to clench onto her upper legs, just below her butt, as she straddled him with her hands still wrapped around his cheeks. She stroked a finger along his jawline that held similarities to expensive knives, rivaling the sharpness of every machete she's ever gotten the chance to hold. Teeth tugged on upper lips, inquiring Bokuto for his permission to feel upon his tongue piercing.  
  
  


Enthusiastically, he opened his lips and stuck his tongue out, however, not after pushing (Y/N) back into her side of the car. Her back met with her side of the door and she briefly realized she was put in the same position she placed Bokuto in, though he used less strength due to the weakened state (Y/N) was in after touching the stars. The warm metal of Bokuto's tongue met with (Y/N)'s own, surprised at the taste that reminded her of blood, but she put that thought aside once she felt the growing heat in the center of her body, screaming for stimulation of any kind.  
  
  


Bokuto seemed to read her mind before she could even act on it, stowing one hand behind her neck and the other down to her inner thighs. One hand squeezed the sides of her throat once again, limiting the amount of air he desired inside of her body, while the other drew circles in the area right beside her heat, begging for even more attention now that it realized its source of pleasure was near. (Y/N) pulled away from Bokuto's aggressive kiss and let out a breath of air, taking in another while he busied himself decorating her own jawline in kisses and bites.  
  
  


Not a word rose out of the two, for (Y/N) was too busy trying to catch her breath that seemed to run away faster than she could keep up due to Bokuto's handiwork. Bokuto, on the other hand, was too busy putting his mouth to use to provide the woman with as much pleasure from foreplay activities as he could, finally acting out on his deepest desires he developed at first sight from back at the rollerskating rink. He couldn't believe that event transpired just yesterday, for her presence and her aura gifted him the comfort of letting him know she was no stranger. He, very shortly, realized he didn't have to put up a fortification taking shape of only a shell of who he truly was. He came to the conclusion that he didn't have to hide himself from her, willing to run the risk of betrayal if he was permitted this feeling over and over again.  
  
  


High prizes come at high prices.  
  
  


(Y/N) released a soft moan from the cages of her prideful lips, ashamed at the sensitivity she attained and how easily pleased she was from simple circles being rubbed onto her inner thigh. She could no longer deny the attraction she felt for the tattooed man, falling in adoration with every part of his body and his annoying ass mind. Maybe it was the weed? Maybe it was something laced in the weed? Maybe it was the intoxication and the perspective they held of the night sky that heightened their feelings towards each other? Maybe, when it was all said and done, this would be all it took for the pair to leave the _'developing'_ relationship to die?  
  
  


(Y/N) didn't care about what she would think in the morning once she arose from her fluffy bed-sheets and regretted her actions. (Y/N) didn't care what the world might've thought of her for staying in relations with a man who's most likely done unspeakable things. (Y/N) didn't care what living force might've shamed her for giving herself up under the moonlight and in a Cadillac, for she felt higher than wherever the weed took her. She soared higher than the stars, the constellations, and the cosmos. She caught a glimpse of the heavens above, heedlessly acquiescing with Bokuto's capability of _'taking her to heaven'._  
  
  


He sure did live up to his promises.  
  
  


"You're like pudding for me," he whispered in her ear, placing a wet kiss on the outermost lobe.  
  
  


"I wanna hear you say my name."  
  
  


(Y/N) squirmed in her seat in embarrassment, not usually so shy with her previous encounters. She could deduce that it was because she hasn't been attracted to someone in so long, but she could also deduce that it was due to the unattractive garments she wore underneath her clothes, truly believing this was going to be a quick smoke session and a dinner date. She should've expected more, really, due to the pure amount of attraction the pair held for each other, except Bokuto was much more open in telling her. (Y/N) would always casually hint at it, but never did she say, or hear from another partner in her life, _'Who put a time limit on love, anyway?'_  
  
  


It truly solidified the growing feelings she was now forced to acknowledge.  
  
  


"Ko..." the breathlessness and the amount of pleasure she felt from his ministries, mixed in with permission to let his name leave her lips, truly sent Bokuto down a spiraling hill of primitive ways.  
  
  


The music that continuously played didn't aid in their situation, either, seemingly strengthening the mood along with the encouraging stars that danced above their heads. Who knew the combination of weed, music, and stars could produce such an atavistic feeling out of the pair that it led them to parking in an abandoned rest stop instead of driving like how they were supposed to? Bokuto's phone, displaying their destination and the steps to get there, sat discarded on the dashboard—abandoned, neglected, and confused on why it wasn't being handled with.  
  
  


"Ko...!" another breath was let loose from (Y/N)'s mouth, provoking Bokuto to forget about warming up her body and head straight for the bud that screamed for attention.  
  
  


His inked hand ceased its ministries on her inner thigh and moved to fall on her clothed flower, noticing how she tensed up the moment his finger met with a certain spot.  
  
  


"Relax, baby, I got you..." he cooed, eyes not missing the way her shoulders relaxed and she allowed her thighs to fall like jello on his leather seats.  
  
  


"S-shit...! Ko...!"  
  
  


"I got you, baby. I always got you," he whispered in her ear again, rubbing the spot with a bit more ruthlessness attached to the pads of his fingers.  
  
  


(Y/N) thrust her bottom half forward, collapsing like pudding in his hands completely. Her head fell backwards and she felt that if he applied any more pressure, she'd be falling off the face of the earth without an object to hold onto. The night sky wouldn't allow that to happen, though, for they'd gift her the ability of defying gravity before she'd get the chance to fall away from her inamorato. Be that as it may, she already reckoned she was defying gravity the moment her inamorato snuck his hand inside the band of her oversized sweatpants, tugging the protective part of her panties aside to expose her flower to the late night air.  
  
  


Bokuto slid his fingers inside her folds, earning a gasp out of (Y/N) in reply.  
  
  


"All this for me? I'm honored," he chuckled, bringing his hand back up to lick the wetness she secreted during their moments of foreplay.  
  
  


"You _damn_ _tease_..." she groaned, rolling her hips in desperation of wanting to feel a part of himself inside her once again.  
  
  


Bokuto returned his palm inside of her sweatpants, but, before doing it, he dragged the band past her butt to expose her granny panties with strawberry doodles. He let out another laugh at the childish choice of underwear, but he couldn't judge, for he knew he had a pair of Spider-man briefs back at his place.  
  
  


He further dragged the sweatpants past her knees and down her ankles, watching her exposed lower body squirm in anticipation and eagerness. A sadistic smirk adorned his features as he, for the last time, squeezed (Y/N)'s neck with the hand that would soon leave it, earning another moan and whine from the woman he adored in every way possible. His eyes never left the way she dripped onto his orange leather seats, gripping her hips and dragging her closer to his body. At the same time, he moderately upheaved her in the air and dipped his head underneath, inciting an astonished look from the woman.  
  
  


"Wait, am I too heavy?" she asked, watching his fingers grip onto her hips even tighter after she uttered the question.  
  
  


"Doesn't matter to me, doll."  
  
  


Bokuto felt that if you couldn't lift your woman and give her oral at the same time, you were useless as a partner in the sex category. He made sure every woman he had the chance of entertaining was given the pleasure they deserved, also getting off to seeing the effects he had on bodies like hers. It wasn't often he was able to reach this phase, for most were chased off by his pugnacious appearance and the guise he feigned so his playfulness wouldn't be taken advantage of. If he _did_ make it to this stage, he'd treat every woman he was about to handicap with utmost care due to his removal of their ability to walk.  
  
  


"I'll still fuck you in the air when given the chance."  
  
  


Bokuto dipped his head down and stuck his tongue out, giving a generous lick to the entirety of the needy flower and got to work on the clit immediately. (Y/N)'s voice caught itself in her throat as she tossed her head back, eyes meeting with the round shape of the moon. Her lids were forced shut in response to the sensation that emerged from her most sensitive parts, feeling the need to raise her hips, but Bokuto's harsh fingers kept her hovering in place. Her back arched as her flower clenched on Bokuto's tongue, pressing against her cushion-like walls in search for a specific spot he aimed to hit repeatedly until she was _really_ like pudding in his hands.  
  
  


It took no time at all to find it, judging by the way (Y/N) jerked her hips away from his mouth. He wouldn't allow her to move away, though, from the way he gripped her hips to the point (Y/N) was sure he'd leave a couple of bruises. The thought of dark spots adorning her body the morning after provoked her to clench her walls even tighter around Bokuto's tongue, eyes rolling in the back of her head. She didn't need to stay awake during the night time in order to see a sky full of stars, for Bokuto took her there. Paired with the obviously laced weed, he flew her up in the sky to altitudes unimaginable, bypassing the insignificant bodies of humans that were dead to the night, acting as if they really were the last awake and alive humans on Earth. (Y/N) could feel the plane come crashing down, though, when she somehow arched her back further and started trembling in the lower parts of her body. This sudden change of body language didn't go unnoticed by Bokuto, so he acted accordingly and sped up his assault on her G-spot.  
  
  


The tongue piercing didn't help in stopping the crash (Y/N) was ready to experience. After soaring with the stars for so long, was she ready to crash from the height she reached? How kind would Bokuto be to soothe her injuries once the collision was over? In the end, when she plotted back onto Earth and was grounded once anew, would she get a taste of the stars all over again?  
  
  


All of those questions melted away, though, by virtue of a single sentence uttered by the persecutor of every worry, adoration, and tension that settled in her body.  
  
  


"Cum for me, doll."  
  
  


The collision back onto earth was explosive and rigid, yet blissful and euphoric, something (Y/N) hasn't felt in a long, long time. Soft yet strenuous moans of pure ebullience left her puffy lips due to the intense make-out session, now throwing her head back to the point it fell from the doors of the open-hooded car. She witnessed white stars dancing in her vision, eyes completely rolled into the back of her head since Bokuto didn't allow her to ride out her ejaculation. He continued to attack that same spot, relentless in making sure she was given the most exhilarating, electrifying orgasm of her life. His fingertips felt like shocks of electricity against her hips, stimulating the girl further until she was milked down to the bone.  
  
  


Only until Bokuto felt she depleted the last of her juices did he conclude his ministries, making sure to slurp up every last drop before he even considered lifting his face to meet hers. He slowly set the exhausted woman down, positioning her so she was comfortable enough to catch her breath and calm down from the flight she just returned from. If this had occurred in his own house, he'd up the aftercare and even run a hot bath for his lady, bringing snacks and drinks to replenish her energy. However, being pulled over in the middle of the countryside didn't allow a lot of options for aftercare except kisses and praises on how well she did and how beautiful she was.  
  
  


Of course, (Y/N) was still a bit hazy, even after Bokuto pulled out a couple of napkins to wipe up the mess she made. Once done, he pulled her panties to cover her throbbing flower once again and tugged the gray sweatpants back over her waist, both surprised and unvexed at the fact that no stray cars stood witness to the pair, much less even drove past them. (Y/N)'s eyes lazily gazed up at the sky, thanking them for the first time in five years for what they stood witness to and allowed, seemingly nodding back at the woman's words of appreciation.  
  
  


"You okay, (Y/N)?" Bokuto asked, noticing her body waking up the moment he put the car in drive.  
  
  


"Yeah, just a bit...tired," she leaned her head back on the seat, finally rotating her body so she could see straight ahead of her.  
  
  


"You sure live up to your promises," she drowsily snickered, adjusting her body so she could hook the seat belt around her once again.  
  
  


"Hm? Which one?"  
  
  


"That you'd take me to heaven."  
  
  


That night, (Y/N) died in Bokuto's arms, walking the surface of the planet like an escaped ghost that forever wondered in the deathless night of immortal stars. She was far from normal, and she knew she was hampering herself from acting on her fullest potential. Fear, however, almost always wins, and, once again, (Y/N) will encounter herself trying to trigger an average lifestyle, aware she was meant for much more. Her absurd fear of the past returning was laughable, for it was already taunting her and staring her down in the face the moment Bokuto approached her at the rollerskating rink.  
  
  


...  
  
  


Gusts of air consistently attacked Bokuto's and (Y/N)'s cheeks the longer they cruised down south, enjoying the bare streets of South Florida with Drake and PARTYNEXTDOOR singing on the radio. _'Deep Pockets'_ , followed by _'Break From Toronto'_ swayed in the pair's ear canals, inducing a type of intoxication that allowed them to cease from parading as children and appreciate the warmth the south brought amid the nighttime. Soft conversation pertaining to absolutely nothing flowed between the two, enrapturing their inamorata/o's in not only their voices, but their opinions on specific topics as well. Before they knew it, downtown was finally in sight and they could spare some attention towards Bokuto's discarded phone, instructing them on what turns to make in the city of blinding lights.  
  
  


Following their search for a parking lot, they came across a _free_ one and took the advantage with open arms, grabbing it before anybody else had the chance to. It was laughable, really, for the streets were almost deserted, save for a couple of crackheads and the freaks that come out solely at night. This specific hour, after all, either housed the authentic, unspeakable sides of human beings, or put the ethical and virtuous to death, waiting until light shined upon earth once more before they'd even consider leaving the comforts of their own home.  
  
  


The pair was thoroughly impressed at the fancy interior of the 24 hour restaurant, noticing how the woman at the counter groaned at the fact that a customer even showed up at this ungodly hour. Judging by Bokuto's appearance and (Y/N)'s clothes, it truly gave her the hallmarks of 'up to no good', so the woman sought her best to appear as polite as possible to thwart a robbery befalling the restaurant.  
  
  


(Y/N) rolled her bloodshot eyes at the woman's feigned kindness as she scurried to seat them as soon as possible, slapping two menus on their table before stating their waiter would eventually make an appearance.  
  
  


"If the workers are rude or fake nice to the point it's obvious, the food is bussin'," (Y/N) stated, opening up the menu to scope out pictures of mouth watering (E/N) dishes.  
  
  


"All of the worst encounters I've had always served amazing food, you just gotta eat in the car or something so the experience isn't ruined," she cackled, still apperceiving the THC invade her system as if she smoked several blunts.  
  
  


It came to a point (Y/N) was paranoid she'd have to attend class intoxicated, which she's definitely done before, but she had a project to present tomorrow. Worst of all, her partner refused to respond and finish their half, meaning the entire assignment was completed by herself. (Y/N) has always been a smart woman—as much as she hated to admit it due to ignorance being bliss—so it was easy for her to execute the simple tasks she handed to her partner. The occurrence even further proved you couldn't rely on no damn body except for yourself, which was verified by (Y/N) the longer she had to _'depend'_ on others.  
  
  


"I've been thinking about your question a lot, (Y/N)," Bokuto suddenly spoke up, taking the woman by surprise.  
  
  


"I feel like I asked a lot of questions tonight. Which one?"  
  
  


"When you asked about the meaning of my tattoos," he paused for a few seconds, attempting to ameliorate his word choice before saying just anything.  
  
  


"I wasn't entirely truthful. I guess the actual drawings of most of the tattoos don't really mean anything, but the context of it and my right arm _do_ have meaning."  
  
  


(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, dropping the menu and forwarding all of her attention towards Bokuto. Her interest peaked when he acknowledged the multiple snakes adorning his right arm, giving the illusion of slithering up, down, and encircling the muscle, tightening around him and forcing him in a place of coercive circumstances.  
  
  


"Oh? I remember you saying you got them out of insecurity."  
  
  


"Yeah, that part was true. It's a long story, you wanna order the food before I tell you?"  
  
  


"Sure, I know what I want. _Waiter_!!!"  
  
  


...  
  
  


"Ko, this food is _bussin'_. I literally just _nutted_."  
  
  


"Shit, me too!"  
  
  


"Anyway, are you gonna tell me the meaning behind the tattoos or stall forever?"  
  
  


"I don't know, stalling forever sounds kinda good right now..."  
  
  


"I'll stab you with this fork."  
  
  


"Okay, woman! Where do I even start...?"  
  
  


(Y/N) looked the man up and down, unsure of where she wanted him to start either. She figured that she wanted him to start at the _'insecurity'_ part, but she wasn't sure if there was a story before it that aided in the cognizance of his entire picture.  
  
  


"How about...the insecurity part?" she suggested anyway.  
  
  


Bokuto placed the fork on his plate after taking another bite, shifting himself in his seat so he could at least feel physically comfortable, if not mentally comfortable. His piercing gaze met with (Y/N)'s own, filled to the brim in untainted curiosity, pushing him to be more comfortable since she had no underlying motives other than to satisfy her own inquisitiveness.  
  
  


"It's a _really_ long story, though."  
  
  


"You already said that, babyboy. I truly don't give a damn, we've been out in the AM for like, four hours now? Go on," she assured him, waving her hand and embellishing a tranquil smile.  
  
  


"It started back in Japan. My curiosity for drugs and a life I never knew about, along with my playful attitude, got me in real trouble with the law. I was just a teenager at the time, but thanks to my illness, I was automatically treated worse than the majority. They thought I was bound to end up as a bad guy, despite being the captain of the volleyball team."  
  
  


"You have an illness?"  
  
  


"ADHD. It was more prominent as a teenager, but, now, I get high so often you can't tell most of the time."  
  
  


(Y/N) sat an elbow on the table and allowed her face to fall in the palm, squishing her skin against the limb.  
  
  


"Go on, baby."  
  
  


"After I got arrested for the first time, that really caused the down spiral of my life. I was forced off the volleyball team and I couldn't find the will to live unless I was high off of something. Keep in mind I was only a teenager, so, of course I didn't know better. I hung out with the wrong people, and they laced my shit one day and snitched when they saw how much better I was at selling. I was still an amateur, fucking up so often I almost got life in prison."  
  
  


Bokuto's fists tightened on the table, provoking the rest of his body to tense up the longer the story built up to its climax. (Y/N) caught the change in his body language, reaching for his hands to trace circles in his tattooed knuckles that, if you looked close enough, were painted in scars telling tales of many life-threatening battles. The tension in his muscles released themselves when he felt her warmth, taking a deep breath in and a deep breath out.  
  
  


"I was on the verge of death and I was running away from the police. It was pretty obvious my life was over, until I bumped into this man..."  
  
  


His eyes lit up with a mellow dazzle, alerting (Y/N) that the man he was about to mention probably was an important figure in his life.  
  
  


"He was from Jamaica. You wouldn't believe the look on my face when he yelled at me to get in his pickup truck in Japanese. I could barely understand him because his accent was so thick, and only until he started talking in English did I understand. The only reason I knew what he was saying was because of the look in his eyes, kinda like that look you give to a child who was about to get run over by a truck. He took me in that truck and fled the scene, maneuvering around the police force like it was nothing. He took us to an entirely different city and nourished me, helping me through all my withdrawals. It was crazy, really, letting a random man take me to a different city. However, I didn't care, I just needed to run away from there. I wasn't welcome anymore, for they had my wanted pictures every fucking where."  
  
  


"How did you end up all the way across the world?" (Y/N) inquired, knowing they were still in Japan when all of this happened.  
  
  


"Well, first, he took me to Cuba. He said he was one of the most wanted criminals in Japan, so he planned to flee with his entire entourage. _I was lucky_ , he told me, for I was now a part of his entourage. Of course, the rest of them looked at me crazy because I was Japanese training under a Jamaican man, but he always kept me around no matter where he went, like an assistant. Well, more like a nephew, since that's what he called me. He didn't allow me to take any drugs until I turned 20, when I was old enough to know better. Thanks to him, I know everything there is to know about this business _and_ I speak four different languages. He saved my life, and I owe everything I have now to him. Sometimes, I wish he was still here..."  
  
  


"I'm so sorry, Ko. How did he die?"  
  
  


"Oh, he isn't dead. He's living his best life in Cuba. He said he found a guy that looks exactly like Tupac, but don't tell anybody I said that," Bokuto whispered the last part with a smile on his face, looking around the restaurant to make sure nobody was eavesdropping.  
  
  


It wasn't like anybody was in the restaurant in the first place.  
  
  


"Ohh, so how did you end up in Miami?"  
  
  


"He said I had enough potential to surpass him and he was getting old, so he wanted to live the rest of his life in Cuba with his wife. He handed the business over to me and transferred us to Miami after saying, and I quote, _"Now, get the hell up out of here so I can live my life in peace, ya' damned leeches!"_ he was the funniest person I knew. After that, I met some people in Miami, made treaties, made business partners, and, just as he predicted, I surpassed him."  
  
  


Bokuto paused for a second.  
  
  


"It was a bittersweet feeling. It's always a bittersweet feeling when you pass the people you looked up to the most. But, even when I was only a teenager, he always believed in me. Even when I refused to touch a gun four years ago, he constantly bragged about my dealing skills and strategies to his entourage. There were only two other Japanese boys there. At the time, one called himself Black Cat, then shifted into a new name. The other was a boy I used to play volleyball with in middle school. Black Cat went on to build another business while the dude I used to play volleyball with decided to be my right hand man."  
  
  


"Ah, how does it tie into the tattoos?" she inquired again.  
  
  


"Fuck, I went off topic! Well, there's my backstory, I guess. The tattoos were because the gang had so much doubt in me that it made me really insecure. My mentor said, _"Fuck what they think! Just get you some tattoos, boy! Show them you ain't no pussy!"_ So, I went out and got a whole bunch of nothing. When it was time to have my right sleeve done, I stopped to think for a second..."  
  
  


(Y/N) leaned in closer, completely engrossed in the entire story.  
  
  


"He had a bunch of snake tattoos on his back. I would ask him, _"Why snakes? Don't they mean disloyalty and dishonor?"_ He looked at me and smacked my head, obviously displeased at my answer. His entourage was around and left the room immediately, knowing he appreciated his privacy when uncovering the history behind his tattoos."  
  
  


"I'll never forget what he told me."  
  
  


_"Boy, you think I'd just casually put a symbol of snitching on my back? What do you take me for? A_ bumboclaat _?" a tall darkskin man pointed at Bokuto's chest, poking him where he just got his tattoos._  
  
  


_He was dressed in a simple brown suit, endowing locs that were too long to keep down his back, so he always tied them in a bun so he wouldn't have to hassle with the locs all day long._   
  
  


_A young Bokuto winced in reply to his strong finger, but continued to hold his ground, learning not to give into pain so easily when he trained under the man before him._   
  
  


_His name was High John, though, that wasn't his real name. He'd use it consistently in fear of a priest or a devotee_ _discovering_ _his government name_ _and_ _plac_ _ing_ _a voodoo spell on him. Instances like that were entirely too common in his area, so he kept a piece of High John the Conqueror Root on him so often that his neighbors started nicknaming him 'Lil High John'. That wasn't the only reason he was nicknamed 'High John'. The man led his gang in a war against the oppressive police force and, surprisingly, won, saving his neighborhood from the gentrification of white billionaires. Because his story was so similar to High John the Conqueror's story, they dropped the 'lil' and started calling him High John. Following that event, however, he was exiled from Jamaica and took refuge in Japan, adapting the language and the culture with ease. Be that as it may, he could never drop the accent due to being around his gang so much, so half of the Japanese population couldn't understand him unless he code-switched._  
  
  


_High John was a well respected man, especially in his line of business. His entourage consisted solely of men who looked like him, for he was very wary of any pale person that'd cross his path and give him the dirty eye. Nonetheless, when he witnessed a little boy on the run from the police who clearly needed help instead of jail time, he couldn't help but take him in, now housing three Japanese boys: Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto._   
  
  


_"No, sir."_   
  
  


_"Good. Sit down, boy, and I'll tell you a little something."_   
  
  


_Bokuto adored his mentor. Bokuto wouldn't be seen without High John walking next to him, smoking a joint and_ daring _someone to utter something about their race-dynamic. He was like the son High John never had, often calling the boy 'nephew' or even 'son'. His 'nephew' raced to sit down in one of the couches that decorated the brown room, filled to the brim with dark oak wood until you got sick of it. High John's HQ held the same vibe as an older black ladies' home, similar to a grandma who concocted the best soul plate that literally collided with your soul when digested. He and his wife had an outdated taste in furniture choices, but Bokuto loved it, for it made him feel more welcome than any other place back in Japan._  
  
  


_They currently resided in Cuba, now counting_ two _countries High John was chased out of._  
  
  


_"You truly think snakes mean something bad? Must've been them_ damn _white folk! Nephew, let me tell you something about snakes in me and my wife's tradition."_  
  
  


_High John sat in a tattered recliner, pulling the seat up so he could relax his feet. In the background, an old 80's style TV displayed reruns of the VHS tapes High John never stopped replaying, prompting Bokuto to see the same_ Good Times _episode for the last couple of months._  
  
  


_"I'm sure you've heard of the story of Adam and Eve? It's not that popular in Japan, but you've learned about it recently, right?"_   
  
  


_Bokuto nodded, tapping his foot to the theme song of_ GoodTimes _._  
  
  


_"In that story, the snake demonized the original meaning to a lot of folks who look like me. Thanks to them damn conquistador's, snakes all around the world have a negative meaning to wherever they stretched their colonization."_   
  
  


_High John lit a cigar, stinking up the room with the awful stench Bokuto grew to love, simply because it was High John's scent. In the future, he'd grow to find out the stench was actually very pleasant, however, for now, he scrunched up his nose and wafted the scent away from his nose._   
  
  


_"All the women in my life were amazing role models. Beautiful, beautiful ladies. They taught me every life skill I know, and I treasure every woman on this planet because of my upbringing, especially my asshole of a wife. I mean, she threatened to put me out because I didn't cut my hair! What type of woman does that?! A sexy woman like her, apparently," High John laughed; he was the type of uncle to get off-track very easily, spinning the topic into something that deviated completely from the original._   
  
  


_"Anyway, back to the subject, my mama loved snakes. She had a pet snake that I used to be too afraid to interact with until she told me the symbolism behind owning a snake..." he took another drag of his cigar, smoking up the room terribly._   
  
  


_He knew he'd be hearing from his wife very soon, he just wanted to appear like a cool uncle in front of his nephew, though he'd never admit it._   
  
  


_"Snakes, in our tradition, represented wisdom and fertility. I had always wondered why my grandma was nicknamed Cobra, for she was wise and gave birth to_ fifteen _children. I still can't believe it, now that I look back."_  
  
  


_"You all slept in one house together?!" Bokuto replied, eyes wider than the joint High John smoked on._   
  
  


_"Absolutely, nephew! Six by the head, six by the leg. The three oldest were allowed to sleep on the couches!" he laughed again, entertained by the way Bokuto was astonished at every one of his stories._   
  
  


_"Snakes were super important to the women in the family, especially since our household traditions were more matriarchal than patriarchal. Fertility was important to us since them white folks was so adamant on killing our black asses! However, we survived, and we're big! The men were beaten badly, so most of the time, it was the women who stepped up and took on the load. I can never thank them enough, so I got the snake tattoos in their honor," High John stood up from his position on the recliner and unbuttoned his shirt, flexing the material off so his nephew could see the multiple cobras that aligned his body._   
  
  


_"From left to right represents my grandma, my mama, my aunties, and, lastly my wonderful wife."_   
  
  


_He turned back around to face Bokuto._   
  
  


_"Nephew, let me tell you something about women."_   
  
  


_High John slipped the button shirt back on, but never bothered to attach the buttons back together, allowing his chiseled chest to stay bare._   
  
  


_"Women are the strongest people on earth. They're what kept this human race alive! Yet, they're one of the most oppressed groups in this world. Men take women for granted...until they decide to leave..."_   
  
  


_"Nephew, listen clearly. Women are the most beautiful people to grace this earth. Everything you attained, you probably have a woman to thank for it. Cherish all women, treat them with respect, and don't you_ **_eva'_ ** _underestimate them."_  
  
  


**_"Because...trust they've been through more than what you ever could've endured."_ **   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"ARE YOU DOWNTOWN**   
**WHEN I'M 'ROUND TOWN?**   
**I'M READY. GIRL JUST LET**   
**ME KNOW WHAT'S GOOD."**

**— PARTYNEXTDOOR. | WUS GOOD/CURIOUS**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


**_CHAPTER INSPO:_ **   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. BACK IN BLOOD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORD COUNT: 4.3K  
> TW: blood, gore, murder, mentions of ADHD, guns, interrogation, torture, mourning.  
> Yes, 19 is still a teenager to me.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"HE WAS DISSIN' ON MY**   
**COUSIN NOW HIS ASS ALL**   
**IN THAT WOOD, HUH?"**

**— LIL DURK. | BACK IN BLOOD**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


Inside the dim, cold-blooded expanse of a rundown room, there stood a single wooden chair on the verge of deterioration, plonked below a hanging light bulb attached to the low ceiling. The patter of raindrops poured on the outside of the decaying building, echoing throughout the expansive room and inciting an ambiance of slaughter with eternal rest. Slumped and strapped onto the rotten chair was nothing more than a bloody shell of a body that previously housed a loud, energetic soul. The figure was no longer identifiable due to strokes of sinister red being painted on the deformed canvas. One could barely tell it was a body, for the only indication that it previously walked this earth was the putrid smell of iron and stomach acid that drained and sprinkled onto the equally as rotten floor boards.  
  
  


Miraculously, however, staggered breaths continued to flow from the battered body, much to the perpetrator's merriment.  
  
  


"You sent this, ain't you?"  
  
  


The perpetrator placed their smothered-in-blood boot on top of the bodies' upper thigh, pressing down on a fractured bone and earning a shriek of pain in reply. This satisfied the guilty to no end, continuously pressing down on the bone until the shrieks became dry and brittle. His smirk turned up into a sinister grin once he discerned the pure amount of damage he forced upon the figure, barely recognizing the drug dealer in the first place. Cold-hearted eyes flickered over multiple cuts, bruises, gapes, and burns he inflicted upon the leader, thoroughly satisfied at the state of his 90 degree bent fingers.  
  
  


The perpetrator held up a piece of paper, now coated in blood that most certainly wasn't his own. He shook the paper around, attempting to seize the eyes of the scantily alive victim.  
  
  


"Look at me when I'm talking to you, trash."  
  
  


He slapped the victim's right cheek, turning his head in an entirely different direction; if it were any harder, he was sure he'd snap the neck and end his life instantly.   
  
  


" _'Come get your money back in blood,'_ you said, didn't you?"  
  
  


 _Inhuman_ and _barbaric_ were the only phrases that could capture the unnerving sneer embellishing Nightcrawler's face. Any random pedestrian within a 10 mile radius could detect the blood-lust and sadistic thrill that meant no sort of good for the entity it was directed towards. Waves of red practically radiated off of the druglord in both anger and excitement, for he hasn't had a gangster attempt to cross him in years, especially ever since he took over High John's position. This presented itself as an opportunity to remind the residents of the entire nation what the Nightcrawler was capable of, especially under the watchful, instigating eyes of the moon.  
  
  


"Why are you sitting here, strapped down, on the verge of death? Can you answer that?"  
  
  


He continued to taunt the dealer—the piss poor excuse of a druglord. How dare he go around claiming himself as a lord if he couldn't even attain ties to the 1%? How dare he even attempt a scam against the Nightcrawler's right hand man, Augusta? The entire nation knew how much of a ride or die Nightcrawler happened to be, especially for his entourage. That's how a lot of folks underneath him were able to stay out of trouble and remain alive, for if he knew what outsiders attempted against his followers, then they could expect to meet their maker within 24 hours.  
  
  


The Nightcrawler held up many similarities to Roman, and, to the underworld, it's been a long time since they've met a druglord who was down for their entourage—who was truly with the shits. After Roman and High John retired, the new generation was simply a shell of what it once was, for the gangsters were uneducated on their own rules and organizations. However, the moment Nekoma and Fukurodani arose, along with several others such as Aoba Johsai, Inarizaki, and Karasuno, the rules and organizations that were once decaying had been brought back to life. The leaders in the past four years have truly proven that the underworld still had the ability to produce prominent, respectable leaders.  
  
  


Nonetheless, even with the new generation taking over, there still seemed to be a few bad apples that slipped through the cracks.  
  
  


"You thought you were a real thug, huh? A real hustler? You lived that fast life and thought being a bitch would get you higher, huh?"  
  
  


The Nightcrawler gripped onto the bruised and scorched neck of Johzenji's bitch-made leader, provoking a grunt of stinging pain.  
  
  


"Who the fuck set you up to this? I know you don't have the balls to cross _me_ of all people, at least, not without a bit of _cash_. _Broke_ _ass_ drug dealer, how do you sell drugs and resort to scamming _me_ after getting a little bit of money? Is that what you are now? A _bitch_?"  
  
  


"So, I ask again..."  
  
  


The Nightcrawler held up their signature Glock 17 with the tip adorned in a splash of white paint to match the B&W theme he aimed for in his line of business. Cold, heinous metal met with a pale forehead, dripping in resentfulness and slicked in the thick substance of blood. The gun captured the perfect atmosphere of a death-threatening executor, acting as an accomplice to many more murders that'd never get light shone upon.  
  
  


Piercing eyes full of torment and resolve finally collided with a merciless glare.  
  
  


"Who the fuck set you up to this?"  
  
  


An unexpected brittle cough echoed throughout the abandoned room, inducing a curious tilt of Nightcrawler's head. His hair cascaded down to the front of his eyes, yet, even when covered, they could still sense and detect every splash of rain decorating the roof of the building and the surrounding area.  
  
  


"Nightcrawler..." he managed to cough up.  
  
  


"I am a lot of things. A scammer, a gangster, a good for nothing bastard, a _bitch_. But, you know what I'm not?" he rasped.  
  
  


Nightcrawler furrowed his eyebrows, placing his finger over the trigger with an immeasurable amount of anger flowing through his veins as if it were naturally a part of him. Unhindered outrage crawled over his body like the seasons of the earth, coating the surface of its dirt in frigid souls and raging flames; he couldn't seem to appease the natural disasters until his finger started moving on its own.  
  
  


_"A snitch."_   
  
  


A single gunshot ricocheted throughout the soulless room, returning another piece of essence to the bright, cloudy skies above.  
  
  


...  
  
  


_"I'm not touching it!"_   
  
  


_"Boy, how do you expect to take over this damn company if you can't even_ touch _a gun?"_  
  
  


 _"Who said I_ wanted _to??"_  
  
  


 _High John attempted to slide a pistol over to the teenage boy who he basically kidnapped two weeks ago, nourishing his body and taking care of him, especially when he started experiencing withdrawals. High John was able to separate Bokuto from the drugs he had been addicted to, successfully managing the near-death withdrawals he endured. Instantaneously, following their move to Cuba, he informally adopted the boy and started referring to him as_ 'nephew' _, even when he was more like a son to the druglord. At the moment, the pair sat at a round oak wood dinner table with a white cloth decorating the surface, finally settled into their new headquarters. On the stove top sat a pot of god-knows-what, but Bokuto didn't question it, for it was probably one of High John's goods being restocked. A mix of_ Good kid, m.A.A.d. city _and_ To Pimp A Butterfly _resounded in the background, passing through songs Bokuto barely recognized but still rang a bell in his head._  
  
  


_"I thought you sold?"_   
  
  


_"I didn't kill anybody, though!" Bokuto pulled his arms back from the table, trying to avoid the pistol in fear that it'd magically start shooting rounds into his head._   
  
  


_All his eyes could perceive was the grim reaper looming over silver accents, whispering prophecies on how he'd act in favor of whosever fingers wrapped around his trigger. He pledged his allegiance to the master of the pistol like an unwillingly indoctrinated American that'd sacrifice their essence for a country who didn't give a damn. After all, that same pistol was once pointed against him during a robbery he just barely came out alive from._   
  
  


_"Well, might as well learn early. I sure did!" High John boasted in eccentric cackles, and Bokuto could finally see where his partner, Kuroo, got his horrendous laugh from._   
  
  


_"Nephew, nephew, nephew..." he sighed, shaking his head as he retracted the pistol, which had the safety lock activated._   
  
  


_"You're not my uncle...?" Bokuto tilted his head, still unaware why his mentor started calling him 'nephew'._   
  
  


_"That's not important,_ nephew _! Now, back on topic, why are you so adamant on not touching a gun?" he asked, raising his dark brown eyes to stare into Bokuto's yellow ones._  
  
  


_The boy paused, fiddling his digits under the wooden table, not going unnoticed by his 'uncle'. He stood up from his spot on the old-fashioned rocking chair and stood behind Bokuto's chair, pressing his large hand against the teenager's back. The gesture helped Bokuto cease his awkward habits, but he continued to stare down at his lap, ashamed of meeting his mentor's eyes he felt were coated in disappointment._   
  
  


_Bokuto was entirely too accustomed to shameful glares full of disappointment crawling over his pale body from nearly every person he's permitted close vicinity to. Even the teenagers he sold alongside with were supposed to be ride-or-dies, they were supposed to look out for him—not send leers of disgust and jealousy every time he collected more money on the block than they did. High John knew of the boy's story just by looking at him, he didn't need Bokuto to utter a word in order to understand him._   
  
  


_"Nephew, look at me."_   
  
  


_A long pause of unmoving air stretched between the pair._   
  
  


_"Are you disappointed in me?" Bokuto asked._   
  
  


_"Not even close. Look at me so I can tell you something," he requested again, finally earning the rotation of his nephew's body._   
  
  


_His eyes were swarming with hesitation and shame, confusing High John until a light bulb belatedly flickered in his head. He refuged three teenage boys and Bokuto consistently persevered to be the most difficult to oversee, add that to the fact he had to teach them two more languages other than Japanese and English. Akaashi and Kuroo had it easier learning and adopting their manners and their skills than Bokuto did, prompting a final conclusion in High John's head._   
  
  


_"Do you have ADHD?" High John asked, furrowing his eyebrows._   
  
  


_Bokuto's solemn face perked up in astonishment, never ceasing to be amazed by his mentor, for he discovered something new about High John every day he spent with him._   
  
  


_"How did you know?"_   
  
  


_"If you live as long as I do, there's just some things you can see that you can't explain," he uttered a small chuckle, rubbing circles in the back of Bokuto's shoulders, releasing the tension that birthed itself out of anxiety._   
  
  


_"There's nothing wrong with you, boy. I'm sure if my entourage didn't refuse to go to therapy, they'd get diagnosed with it, too. Anyway, something like that doesn't have to stop you from reaching your potential! You're bigger than those pills they use to suppress you, you're bigger than the doctors who call you 'unstable', you're bigger than anybody else in this world who doubts what the fuck you're capable of!" High John encouraged the boy with the biggest smile on his face, erasing Bokuto's nervous look and molding it into one of determination._   
  
  


_"Me and you are the same. We want to protect the folks we love most. We want people to look at us in respect, and to be able to ignore those looks of disappointment because we haven't reached the highest positions yet. Well, me, I've reached it. However, you..."_   
  
  


_"You're meant for much more than you're letting on."_   
  
  


_High John walked over to the stove and turned the heat off, stirring whatever seethed inside of the pot._   
  
  


_"But, in order to get there, we gotta start with the basics. We need to make sure we're able to protect the people we love most. We need to make sure we can protect the women when they can't protect themselves. Sometimes...sacrifices need to be made. That's the beauty of life—this give and take relationship we have with her. I remember this girl told me those words, I think she was your age? Maybe a year or two older? Anyway..."_   
  
  


_"I know it's difficult, but realize_ we're _your family now. Blood that wasn't there for you don't matter in this lifestyle, but you know what does? The folks who ride for you. Don't forget it, nephew, because you're a damn genius, as much as you make people think you're a dumbass."_  
  
  


_Bokuto, very shortly, came to realize how true the man's statement happened to be. Time passed by the boy in slow waves, similar to 3:00 PM ocean tides. The boy looked up to his mentor at such great lengths he allowed High John to drop a pistol in his hands, caressing the merciless metal that'd act as the grim reaper in service of whosever finger graced the trigger. His pistol spoke words to him in every instance a man on the block looked at him weirdly, seemingly jumping in his pocket like a piece of High John the Conqueror root whenever someone was gambling and risked losing their money._   
  
  


_Bokuto took on the persona of a naturally kind person, constantly showcasing an air of playfulness and joy in the presence of every entity he met, no matter the status of said entity. He maintained high ambitions ever since High John housed him, terminating all doubts of himself ever since his talk at the dinner table with his 'uncle'. Following that day, Bokuto reluctantly started carrying—illegally, of course—just in case he had to protect himself or Akaashi and Kuroo when they sought out to sell._   
  
  


_He'd never forget the day he lost the ability to display an open air of kindness in front of strangers._   
  
  


_The sky adorned a solid blue color with no cloud in sight, causing a type of weather that'd make just about anybody melt like a Popsicle. Bokuto and his trio of misfit teenagers strolled up the dirt street to the local corner store, purchasing the same round of treats they bought weekly. It came to a point that surrounding neighbors began to recognize the boys very well, even greeting them when they stalked their streets in search of their favorite sweets. This included a certain boy that the trio became good friends with._   
  
  


_His name was Tsukishima Kei._   
  
  


_Kei was quite a reserved teenager who only spoke when spoken to, resulting in thwarting any potential problems with other folk in the neighborhood. In fact, when he consistently examined the trio approach his brother's corner store, he considered ensuing a conversation. The boy genuinely didn't expect the trio to be so accepting of him, much less enthusiastic about finding another teenager that happened to be their age._   
  
  


_Whenever they'd come inside the corner store, Tsukishima would already be waiting for the boys with a magazine in hand, pretending as if he wasn't anticipating their arrival. He wore a nonchalant aura most of the time which, surprisingly, attracted Bokuto even closer to him, despite their difference in attitudes._   
  
  


_Their conversations ranged from anywhere between the fact their teens would be ending soon to random facts about the countries they've visited. Tsukishima would often talk about the things he's seen in Miami, U.S.A., intriguing the trio to the point they wanted to visit, or maybe even live there. High John wasn't too sure on why Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo walked up the street so often, but he didn't mind it too much when stacks of money came flooding onto his kitchen table by the end of the week._   
  
  


_The day was clear of any cloud in sight and the canvas of the sky was painted in bold blues, once again, drenching the town in inconceivable amounts of sweat. Laziness started a coup d'état over every adult's physical body and they caved in to allow their descendants to look over the store for the day, knowing not a soul would show up in the first place due to the unbearable weather._   
  
  


_The trio and Tsukishima, however, stood inside the store, conversating about anything that came to mind. Tsukishima seemed a bit on edge, unable to properly scan a candy bar without dropping it back onto the counter. He, however, surmounted his sudden change in attitude and returned to his usual nonchalant state of mind, descrying his quivering as unnoticeable to the trio._   
  
  


_After exchanging money and receipts, Tsukishima moved from behind the counter and followed the trio to the break room, consisting of a mini fridge, an old version of a TV, and a red couch that held sanguine-like hues. The trio reached for their drinks from the plastic bag and plonked themselves on the couch, triggering the TV so they could hook up the console they found near a trash pile._   
  
  


_Tsukishima observed the atmosphere in the room and determined comfortability, agitated with how at home he felt when he stood by the trio, especially Bokuto. He hoped to the cloudless skies above that everything would end up alright, knowing his decision would affect not only his life forever, but the neighborhood as well._   
  
  


_"I've been meaning to ask, what are the nicknames you all go by? I've seen you guys on the corner a couple of times," Tsukishima innocently inquired, shocked at the straightforward responses he got._   
  
  


_"Oh, I'm Nightcrawler! It's cool as fuck, ain't it?!" Bokuto confessed in excitement, prompting the rest of the trio to confess their own nicknames since they saw no harm in it._   
  
  


_"I'm Nine, that's Augusta," Kuroo spoke up, pointing at Akaashi who played the console instead of joining the conversation._   
  
  


_"I got it because cats have nine lives, I don't know where Mr. Grumpy Pants got his name."_   
  
  


_"It's a man I learned about in history," Akaashi grudgingly replied._   
  
  


_"What about you, Kei? Do you sell?" Bokuto asked, staring Tsukishima down with eyes similar to an owl locked on its prey._   
  
  


_It truly was designed to be an unsceptical question with a virtuous sense of curiosity mixed into the concoction, but Tsukishima established it as an attack on his well-being. The boy felt if he even dared to step out of line, Bokuto would follow up with a move, predicting any and every tactic he could ever spawn into existence, plus more. It was like his eyes thoroughly scrutinized every entity past his friends, and Tsukishima was worried he didn't attain a close enough status to breach his_ almost _foolproof skill. Crinkling rattles of a soda can suffocating in the palm of Tsukishima was detected from the rest of the trio, provoking expressions of concern across their faces._  
  
  


_He contemplated that as a threat. He saw the worried look on their faces and sensed an aura of feigned danger radiating from them, as if they already acquired his plans for the day. Sweat dripped down his temples in anticipation of what his next move would be. Is this the moment? Is this the right time? Should he play it off and then wait for a better time when they weren't conscious?_   
  
  


_All those questions faded away, though, when a specific quote from his brother flooded his mind, similar to the unprecedented tsunami that occurred a year ago in Miami and damaged half of the city. All rational thoughts ditched his head once his brother's words bounced in every nook and cranny of his brain, on a quest for the specific region where all his decisions were shaped and confirmed._   
  
  


**_"Those boys are trouble. Have you seen the people they hang around? They're taking all of our customers!! They need to be gone before they really take over this spot. And...you need to be the one to do it."_ **   
  
  


_Tsukishima loved and adored his brother with all of his heart, willing to eliminate any force that aimed to impede his acceptance into the undead-world. Even if the cost was killing off his only friends who he knew deep down inside were loving, but troubled, teenagers, he'd do it._   
  
  


_After all, he was a troubled, but loving, teenager himself._   
  
  


_The flash of silver unveiling itself from Tsukishima's pocket shocked and stunned every breathing entity in the break room, even the perpetrator himself. Small windows at the back allowed bright, hot sun rays to descend upon the grim reaper, ready for its master to make a decision on who it shall take with him to the six-feet-under world. Time slowed down, for no person in that room was sure of what the outcome would be, and whose soul would be dragged out of their body._   
  
  


_However, Bokuto stood witness to the sluggish movements his eyes caught, querying why the world seemed to come to a halt. In a split second, he could feel his pistol jump in his pocket, craving for the sensation of sanguine painted floors and the putrid smell of iron. The boy, almost too quickly, reached into his pocket and pulled out his own pistol, finger on the trigger faster than the light that could've reached it. Bokuto's natural instincts from fending for himself back in Japan kicked in, pointing the pistol quicker than anyone would've reacted._   
  
  


_Formerly, his gun hadn't ever been loaded—he'd use it for bluffs and to escape from sticky situations. Living with High John truly changed his way of life._   
  
  


_Today, at this moment, a voice disclosed to him that Tsukishima's gun wasn't a bluff either. It would be a matter of who fired the first shot that decided who the grim reaper would take to hell, for everyone in that room knew they weren't going to see heaven after that day._   
  
  


_On June 9th, Bokuto killed his first man—a teenager. A teenager who still had dreams to accomplish, who still had hopes to build on, who still had his entire life ahead of him to turn it all around and be a man that his mother could be proud of._   
  
  


_She wouldn't be able to see her son grow into something honorable, though, for she was too busy huddled over his casket, screaming to the clear skies above,_ "why did it have to be **him**?!"  
  
  


...  
  
  


(Y/N) carefully opened her eyes, cautious to only permit sunlight little by little in her vision, for, if she jumped straight into waking up, the headache following would have her considering putting a gun to her temple. She brought up her numb hand to shade her eyes, shifting in her sheets in an attempt to wake up the rest of her body. Every attempt, however, failed horrendously, resulting in the girl skipping class despite the project she had to present.  
  
  


She figured that if she failed, she'd just take the class again, this time without a broke, unreliable partner who couldn't even finish seven PowerPoint slides; she knew her partner was broke judging by their poor choice in clothing. (Y/N) continued to curse her project partner in a raspy, mucus filled voice, aggressively reaching over to her nightstand and slamming her hand down on her phone. One day, she was going to break the stand due to her excessive mannerisms she attained after exiting her dream state, but, until then, she'd continue to release her generational rage on the wooden object. Her fingers fiddled with the side of the phone and she picked it up, retracting her arm so she could see what was happening in the world. The first notification that popped up on her screen was an email from her professor, provoking an eye roll and a scowl until she read the email in its entirety.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_"Good morning to all of my students. I regret to inform you that one of the students in this class, Yuji Terushima, has tragically passed away due to reasons I cannot disclose. In response, I'm canceling class today and allowing (Y/N) (L/N) a 100% test grade because of her partner's death. I hope all is well, please email me if you have any problems that need to be discussed. Have a nice day."_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"HE'LL STILL BE**   
**ALIVE RIGHT NOW IF**   
**YOU NIGGAS AIN'T**   
**GAS HIM UP."**

**— LIL DURK. | NO AUTO DURK**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


**_CHAPTER INSPO:_ **   
  
  
  
  
  



	5. NOTHING IS PROMISED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORD COUNT: 7.7K  
> TW: vomit, mentions of a shootout, mentions of a previous fixation/obsession, illegal drug use.

**"AIN'T NONE OF THIS**   
**SHIT PROMISED, AIN'T**   
**NONE OF THIS PROMISED."**

**— RIHANNA. | NOTHING IS PROMISED**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


**"Why do you keep holding yourself back?"**   
  
  


A woman who sunk her bare feet into the ocean waves gazed down at the water, watching the rough waters retract and splash back onto her ankles. Her ears discerned a whisper emitting from the sand, so she whipped her head in the direction and met with the reflection of herself, shifting back and forth out of existence. She lifted her eyebrows and noticed the reflection didn't copy; instead, it held an expression filled with shame and disgust on its razor sharp teeth. Its entire sclera had been splashed in a bloody red, representing the bodies it's both seen and tormented. Lately, that same shadow has been returning for its crown over (Y/N)'s body, determined to retrieve what it once held possession of. She could tell by the look in its eyes...there was no convincing it to die off.  
  
  


In fact, it felt more alive right now than ever in the past five years.  
  
  


**"Normal?"** it whispered, entrancing (Y/N) to continue staring at the unsettling reflection of herself.  
  
  


**"Normal?!** **_Normal_ ** **?! You know** **_damn_ ** **good and well you're meant for much more than 'normal'!"**   
  
  


(Y/N) flinched, furrowing her eyebrows in response to the sudden wave of anger she sensed from her shadow. The woman was well aware of the internal thirst she harbored after she allowed her mother to convince her that a _'normal'_ lifestyle was the best option. She'll never forget the wails of desperation from the women in her family, begging her to stay alive and remain intact. They simply wanted their precious little girl to reach her fullest potential by using her brain instead of her hands, and she could almost understand their anxiety—almost.  
  
  


**"You had everything!! Anything you ever wanted, you held it in your hands! But, you allowed a bitch boy to take that from you?!"**   
  
  


An ache ensued atop her head and her eyes were going brittle by her lack of blinking, too hypnotized by the harsh words that she didn't want to miss a thing. For the first time in a long, long time, she opened her ears, her heart, and her mind to comprehend what her shadow has been trying to relay for the past five years. The internal fear of everything repeating over again was indoctrinated inside of her by family members, prompting her to never contact that shadow again until the day she died.  
  
  


Even in the uncomfortable physical state she was in, she continued to look down at the reflection in the wading water.  
  
  


**"You were a fucking king. You were destined to be the honored one. A normal life was never supposed to be in your dictionary in the first place!"**   
  
  


(Y/N) caught eye of the trail of blood flowing from her reflection's eyes. Her heart clenched at the sorrowful yet sinister sight, not sure if it was fear or sympathy inducing the heart squeezes. It wasn't often she'd see her shadow crying, for the last time she saw it crying happened to be five years ago when she locked it in a cage. Ever since, she's been living her _'best life'_. However, in the back of her mind, she continuously discerned the rattling of chains and pleas that begged for acknowledgement. At night, she couldn't stand being conscious so late, not just for the useless men who hit her line, but for the chained and starving shadows in the corner of her room holding bullets, thirsting for a taste of sanguine once again. It was an unnerving experience when she'd catch sight of bullets being tossed in the sky, cutting through the air like how it used to cut through flesh.  
  
  


**"You wanna stay an ant like the majority when you have the potential to evolve into a god? Fuck that! You can feel it, can't you? The longing gazes you give every time you pass the gun store, the yearning you feel every time you see a shootout had occurred downtown? You feel it, I know you do, because I am** **_you_ ** **."**   
  
  


(Y/N) sensed her stomach rumbling and the uneasiness in her throat, signalling she was ready to vomit if she didn't calm the churning in her body. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around her stomach and she fell to her knees, soaking the bottom half of her body in salty water. Her biker shorts stuck to her thighs like glue, also soaking the tips of her white tee. Despite the change in positions, (Y/N) consistently locked eyes with her shadow, never removing them at any point during the unusual lecture.  
  
  


**"You're higher than every damn body in this world! You had it! Then...that boy came around and fucked it up! He ruined you! And what did you do?"**   
  
  


(Y/N) was forced to keep her hand over her mouth, pushing the vomit back down in her stomach, just like how she constantly pushed her fears back onto her brain so she could continue living her _'normal life'_. Her shadow, however, has been preparing for this specific moment for half a decade. It's been training for when (Y/N) would be at her weakest—her most vulnerable—and then it'd snatch the chance to indoctrinate her mind once again of how she was once a king.  
  
  


**"You let him get away with it. You let** **_them_ ** **get away with it. You know what you need to do, (Y/N), or else you can't even call yourself 'good enough'."**   
  
  


All efforts to keep herself from vomiting resulted in failure, releasing not only the nasty contents of her stomach, but every fear she unwillingly forced upon herself in the past five years in order to maintain peace.  
  
  


_Peace. That was it._   
  
  


**"You don't even need to trap like how you used to."**   
  
  


When (Y/N) allowed her shadow to take over, peace wouldn't ever find itself in her dictionary nor her style of living.  
  
  


**"Put those motherfuckers in their place and let them know who the** **_real_ ** **lord is—who's the** **_real_ ** **king of the underworld."**   
  
  


Now, however, with her shadow living in solitary with nothing to survive off of but its bottomless pit of undying rage and vengefulness, she found herself seething in the same emotions her shadow endured over the years. (Y/N) fully opened her mind, allowing ideas to flow inside of her and through her bloodstream, like fish who were traveling upstream in search of instigating a coup d'état. Unlike the kings who tried to resist every form of a riot in their kingdoms, the woman allowed her previous ideals to take over her mind, body, and soul. She wasn't sure of what was going to happen soon, but she knew it's been much too long since she felt like this, so she was going to take it to the extreme and relish in this forgotten feeling of superiority.  
  
  


**"Now...what're you gonna do...(Y/N)?"**   
  
  


She detached her eyes from the sinister reflection below her and looked up at the sky, catching sight of a beautiful moon. The mass of crates stared down at her child approvingly, adorning a vengeful air to her that provoked the tides to wade more viciously around her body. The moon has been patient for the return of her most well known child, ready to act in her favor of whatever route she planned to execute during the night. She wouldn't tell a soul in the morning of what occurred underneath her eyes, anticipating the revenge of her precious children that were taken from her years before. (Y/N), at last, stood back up in the water that's long since washed her vomit away, clenching her fists with an unfathomable amount of vengefulness surging through her like ocean currents, announcing to her shadow what her next move would be.  
  
  


"I'm taking my shit back, Roman."  
  
  


She no longer gave a damn about what lifestyle she was trying to live, for her true destiny was already staring her down, waiting for the moment she'd cease parading as anything less than a king. (Y/N) couldn't care any longer for the faded pleas that used to cloud her mind and hinder her potential. She wouldn't care about the looks of uneasiness men gave her when they realized who she was and what she was capable of, for she was too busy stepping over the patriarchy that sought out her downfall. She refused to let _them_ get away with what they did five years ago. Propelling the nation into disarray, unveiling the due lords of the underworld, and reclaiming what was rightfully hers since the moment of her honored birth was what (Y/N) planned. She was going to turn the nation's under-leaders over and put their merit on trial, exposing whosever positions were unwarranted and position them six feet under.  
  
  


Roman, the persona that lived inside of (Y/N), wanted a massacre.  
Roman wanted a sanguine paradise.  
  
  


(Y/N) hopped back onto her motorcycle and raced down the freeway, conjuring up ideas and plans that Roman created over the years she was previously too afraid to access. Now, however, she looked to her alternative for the steps it willingly provided, rubbing its wrists in celebration that they were free from the rusty chains (Y/N) summoned. The minute she returned to her home, she snatched her phone from the kitchen counter she left it on and called up a friend she's been ignoring for the past two weeks. (Y/N) tapped her foot in anticipation for what was to come, knowing she didn't need to text her friend a heads-up for them to answer the phone.  
  
  


They always answered, no matter what.  
  
  


"Hey, _granny_! What are you doing up so late?"  
  
  


"I need to see you."  
  
  


A pause ensued over the phone until the friend finally responded back.  
  
  


"'Aight, bet. Where?"  
  
  


"Don't be stupid, _Tetsu_. You know where."  
  
  


...  
  
  


_"Who the fuck is blasting that music?"_   
  
  


In a large, previously abandoned plaza, there stood hundreds of residents who were preparing to watch a street race go down between two of the most famous rivals in Miami: Karasuno and Nekoma. Despite the term _'Trashcan Showdown'_ used to refer to the event, many differing gangs showed up with their entire entourage and placed bets of money so high that it nearly reached a million dollars total. Cars of different brands and different generations filled up the parking lot, including the easily recognizable cars of each infamous gang. However, to (Y/N), she wasn't able to easily distinguish the cars nor the cliques, for she was a part of the old generation, and she left that lifestyle before she could become acquainted with the new rulers.  
  
  


In no time at all, (Y/N) pulled up seated in a bright red 1994 Ducati 916, catching lurks of more than half of the awaiting gang members. She could distinguish that the crowd held a couple of regular pedestrians, but, judging by the atmosphere and the trap music they played, at least 80% of them were involved in drug trafficking. Said criminals continued to ogle not only the motorcycle she held possession over that boosted _Behind The Fence_ by Bankroll Fresh, but her magnificent, enticing shape as well. Once she lifted the crimson red helmet to unveil herself, their eyes met with one of the most beautiful faces they've ever witnessed in a vicious area like a street race.  
  
  


_"I'm runnin' through this shit, I'm talkin' marathon!"_   
  
  


(Y/N)'s hair was freshly done after she managed to find a braider that could take her in at short notice. Of course, due to the cheap prices and low difficulty she had to endure with this particular hairstylist, there was consistently a catch. Amid the process of her receiving her knotless box braids that reached her upper butt and had the tips adorned in wooden beads (ranging from brown to a light tan), she heard loud gunshots and even wails of pain outside the apartment. It didn't phase (Y/N), but it caught her off guard since she just wanted her hair done and they had to hide a man who almost died in the shootout. The awkward experience made her burst into random laughs throughout the day until she stopped by the beach to experience its rough waves during the night.  
  
  


Her enticing figure was dressed in a long sleeve black jumpsuit that had the neck plunging down to her lower bust, showing off every bit of cleavage she was graced with. Around her waist sat a black corset tight enough to show off her shape that'd make just about any woman in the vicinity feel threatened. Her feet were fitted in black mid-calf boots that further ensued the _bad girl_ look she was aiming for. (Y/N)'s lips were outlined in dark lip liner as the rest of her lips were filled with shiny lip gloss, upping the sultry atmosphere she radiated. Her eyelashes were soaked in peppermint oil and, if she's being honest, her eyes felt _minty_ as hell, but it complimented her natural eyelashes so much that she endured it. To top everything off, she added a moisturizer to her face that allowed her melanin to glow in every light source known to man, especially the artificial neon lights illuminating her body and the anticipated street race.  
  
  


She flipped the hair behind her shoulders and encircled the helmet with her left arm, fully aware of the invisible beef women deepened when their boyfriends continued to stare at her well endowed ass. She didn't complain, though, for she understood their frustration and refused to be a bitch to women who couldn't attain the confidence she could. After all, they were no where near her lane, reason being they never dominated the underworld like she did. Being a king, especially in a man's world, required the confidence of a God, and they believed in a divine that stood _above_ them instead of _beside_ them, so she couldn't blame the dozens of women for their stares.  
  
  


(Y/N) turned her head repeatedly, looking for her friend that she knew wouldn't miss out on such an important event.  
  
  


"Hey, shawty, you lookin' for someone?"  
  
  


_'God, not this again,'_ she sulked inside of her mind, coming face to face with a broad chest.  
  
  


She raised her eyebrows and frowned.  
  
  


"Yes, I'm looking for Tetsu. Where is he?" she asked in a soft voice, though loud enough to hear over the music she boosted.  
  
  


The fact that she still felt Bokuto's blunt from the day before aided in her maintaining a soft voice. She couldn't front that she wasn't fading in and out of consciousness the moment she hopped off of her vehicle, for she definitely held a 'clueless' aura around her. It looked like, to the men, she was easily manipulable, so it convinced some to approach her in hopes of taking her home for the night. (Y/N), however a bit simpleminded, wasn't dumb in any way, shape, or form.  
  
  


"Whoa, lady, you got some balls using his real name. I heard whenever someone uses his real name, he—"  
  
  


"I _literally_ don't need to hear that story. Where is the boy? Snorting crack, I bet."  
  
  


She's heard plenty of stories pertaining to how he doesn't allow anybody to refer to him as his first name, reason being he bragged about it at every chance he'd get. Despite that, (Y/N) was close enough to the coke-addict that she referred to him as whatever she wanted, including names such as _'dumbass'_ , _'rooster'_ , _'Bill Nye's bitch'_ , and her favorite, _'crackhead'_.  
  
  


"What? You his girlfriend?" he asked, seemingly taking a couple of steps back from the woman.  
  
  


It was tempting to refer to herself as his girlfriend, for she knew it'd prompt men to leave her alone, but she'd rather refer to herself as Bokuto's girlfriend due to the embarrassing amount of adoration she harbored for him. Add that to the fact his head was _magnificent_. _Exquisite. Divine_. Every good adjective you could use applied to Bokuto.  
  
  
  


"No, he's my dealer. Where—"  
  
  


"Ah, nevermind, there he is. _Anddd..._ snorting crack, just like I guessed. 'Aight, I'll see you around, babyboy," (Y/N) caught sight of her friend and softly pushed on the built chest of the random man, separating them.  
  
  


Unintentionally, the _'babyboy'_ and the soft push on his chest caused him to develop a tiny adoration for the woman, watching her body sway in the night as she strolled towards her friend. (Y/N) patted the red helmet a few times as if it were her child and mischievously grinned when she noticed Kuroo's vulnerable neck, exposed to the air due to him bending over and preparing to snort another line.  
  
  


"I like ya' cut, G," she cackled, smacking the back of his head right in the middle of a line he was consuming.  
  
  


His face made contact with the remaining coke and he released a groan of displeasure. A hand was brought up to wipe the rest off of his face and he turned to see one of his closest friends, surprised at how quickly she arrived to the scene. He didn't even have a chance to snort his last line before she'd stop him from indulging in the rest. Kuroo was aware she only tried to look out for him, but he was far past gone and would probably die from withdrawals if he stopped when (Y/N) wanted him to. After all, he wasn't in the care of High John anymore, so he couldn't receive the same treatment Bokuto got when he first joined the entourage.  
  
  


"You damn crackhead. Can't you smoke weed like the rest of us?"  
  
  


Kuroo rolled his eyes and cleaned off the hood of a random girl's car who screeched in excitement at the sight of him doing drugs. The sight made (Y/N) scrunch up her face in disgust, unable to understand how snorting a line of coke was _'sexy'_ , but she couldn't judge, reason being she got head in a Cadillac from a guy she just met whilst touching the stars at the same time.  
  
  


"First of all, it ain't _crack_. Second of all, it keeps Zelda skinny, so maybe you should try it. You've been gaining weight in your hips ever since you left," he retorted.  
  
  


"Oh, so now Bill Nye's bitch is trying to preach to me? That's why I found a better plug than you."  
  
  


"What?! (Y/N), don't do this to me! We're supposed to be besties," he pouted, grabbing both of her hands in desperation.  
  
  


"This is why I ignore you for a week at a time, but you're still my bestie. Anyway, tell me what's been going on ever since I left. Apparently, I don't know shit about the new generation," she finally requested, getting right to the point.  
  
  


(Y/N) held no desire to stall on important subjects, promptly introducing her objective instead of asking how one's day has been. If she wanted her throne back, she knew she'd have to get it back in blood. In order to draft a plan in the first place, she needed more information about who exactly she was about to get herself involved with, making sure it was something she could handle. Kuroo knew her habit of coming off as rude when she needed answers immediately, however, the request she urged out of him surprised the boy enough for silence to overcome his loud mouth. As far as he knew, she wanted nothing to do with that life, nor did she want to be knowledgeable of the news after she 'retired'. Swiftly, he overcame the shock and embellished his signature shit-eating grin that told (Y/N) he was up to no good. It took almost no time at all to guess her plans and he was ecstatic on the inside to know she was going to do what she should've done long ago.  
  
  


Her family got in the way of her fate; Kuroo could see it in her face and the confident aura she walked with that she ditched the fears and doubting whispers that her family installed.  
  
  


"Damn, you _old ass bitch_ ," he teased.  
  
  


"I'm only a year and some change older than you!"  
  
  


"Yeah, a year and 9 months, granny. Where you want me to start?" he finalized, attempting to get the last word in; around her, he'd never be able to get the last word.  
  
  


"Nekoma gon' be really sad when I put your ass on a T-shirt."  
  
  


"Ugh, you share so many similarities to Nightcrawler, it's embarrassing," he groaned, sliding a single hand down his face.  
  
  


"Eh, you personally know Nightcrawler?" (Y/N) questioned furrowing her eyebrows.  
  
  


Kuroo was a high-end druglord who was difficult to contact, much less acquaint with in the first place. (Y/N) naturally knew Bokuto as a regular plug who had a bit more cash than he could spend, so she was astonished to find out he had casual connections to such a monumental druglord. Maybe they had been childhood friends or something? Or, Kuroo was Bokuto's vendor?  
  
  


"No, the question is YOU know Nightcrawler?!" he retorted, just as surprised as (Y/N), for she was supposed to be living a normal life, yet she was in contact with one of the most violent druglords in the nation.  
  
  


Kuroo suddenly grimaced at what (Y/N) had been doing in her free time. He definitely knew the woman wasn't focused on college, so what the hell else she filled her day with was a mystery to the man. Where would one even come in contact with _THE_ Nightcrawler and develop a casual relationship? Especially with such a cautious man who only allowed a handful of people to see his true self? Was (Y/N) just attracted to that cold exterior he had, or did their 'relationship' run deeper?  
  
  


"Yeah, he gave me head in the front seat of a Cadillac in the countryside," (Y/N) smiled happily, closing her eyes in remembrance of the blissful night; it's been two days since and they made plans to hang out again later in the week.  
  
  


"You nasty, _freaky_ bitch. Why did you have to go and fuck my dope dealer? I'm telling on you to High John," he started shaking her shoulders, unable to wake her up from her trance until he mentioned High John.  
  
  


"First of all, _he_ fucked _me_. Second of all, how was I supposed to know y'all knew each other?!"  
  
  


"I— _just_ , _stop_. You're stressing me out. Can we get back on track?" he held his palm up in a _'back the fuck up'_ formation.  
  
  


"Fine. What's been happening?" she settled for being called a _freaky bitch_ because she wanted to go to bed as soon as possible.  
  
  


"Well, ever since... _y'know_ , Doomsday has been getting bigger and bigger as a lord. He's been instigating a lot of beef with Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. Oh, you don't even know Aoba Johsai, do you?" he placed his hand under his chin, attempting to gather everything he collected from each important gang.  
  
  


Kuroo, despite his junkie ways, had been a consistent observer to the new generation, racking up as many names, faces, and abilities as possible. His brain acted as a library so full of gang-related storage that many considered him one of the biggest new generation threats to every living druglord, just below Nightcrawler.  
  
  


"No, what's Karasuno up to?" (Y/N) had been curious to know what her favorite folks were up to, for she hasn't contacted them in a couple of months.  
  
  


"Red Crow is still as lively as ever. Look, he's right over there. They're getting bigger, but Doomsday's still overshadowing them by a lot," Kuroo pointed over to a group that dressed themselves in black hoodies with orange accents, encircling an all orange 1999 Lamborghini Diablo CT.  
  
  


It was a bold car that'd attract much attention, but it suited Karasuno, for their members attracted just as much attention on their own without effort. (Y/N) perked up at the sight of her favorite short redhead, but that happiness died down when she allowed Kuroo's last sentence to sink in her mind.  
  
  


"They should be bigger than Inarizaki by now, what the fuck? What is that bastard doing to keep himself so high?"  
  
  


"We're not sure, but they're on the verge of getting murked if they keep fucking with everybody. Anyway, Aoba Johsai is over there. They specialize in underground boxing matches, Heroin, and they sell _R.I.P._ bullets. Pretty sure their leader is off it every time he steps out of the house," Kuroo directed her attention away from Inarizaki, wanting to explain the rest of the new generation.  
  
  


(Y/N) turned her head away from Karasuno and stared at a group of tall men, cladded in white and turquoise colors, emitting a confident aura that ticked (Y/N) off to the point she wanted to reclaim her title as _Roman_ right then and there. Kuroo, however, tapped the woman's shoulder so she could refocus on his explanation. Her ability to sway off track so often continued to stun the druglord, for it was impossible to be as high-end as her and possess such detrimental traits.  
  
  


"Johzenji's gone, as they should be since they tried to scam us the other day. Of course, he was put in the dirt, but we believe he was set up by somebody else. We're not too sure yet," he didn't bother to apprise the details, for she probably had a good image of their 'downfall'.  
  
  


"Over there is Date Tech, their new member is a damn beast, especially in close range. They rival Aoba Johsai in underground boxing matches, but they also sell bulletproof vests. Odd business, but it makes a fuck ton of money."  
  
  


(Y/N) turned her body and looked at the gang who were dressed in white and teal, nearly the same way as Aoba Johsai. She would've thought their colors were the same if she didn't lean closer and notice Aoba Johsai's outfits were white and turquoise instead of white and teal.  
  
  


"That's Shiratorizawa over there. They're big on steroids for athletes and rich people. Damn, I hate them. We got major beef after they tried to scam Zelda, but they're too big to kill like we did Johzenji. They're just as big as Inarizaki and we think they're partners, but we have no idea"  
  
  


Kuroo relayed his suspicions, watching the members parade around as if they were _the_ shit. They had every reason to do so, for they were considered one of the richest, most dangerous gangs in Miami. He had no idea, however, where they ranked outside of the state. Top 10 is where he wanted to place them, but he wasn't too hip on gangs outside of Florida unless they were no. 1 in their city. (Y/N) curiously stared at who she guessed as their leader, since he appeared the most intimidating out of the group. Unexpectedly, even though it was nighttime and the only light source illuminating the parking lot consisted of neon lights, their eyes met for an extended period of time, both refusing to back down from the ominous stare they spared for each other. (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows and he rose his in surprise, having no idea who the woman was, but he did understand the confidence she maintained, so he averted his gaze and continued conversing with his entourage. Kuroo snapped (Y/N) out of her mini celebration that she 'still had it' and pointed to the next gang.  
  
  


"Fukurodani's over there, but their leader is busy selling on the block. They're my biggest business partner and they specialize in dope, LSD, and percs 'cause his mentor taught him, plus he has a certified doctor on his team. You'd be surprised how many people buy percs and don't just rap about it, it's ridiculous. They gamble a lot, place bets, and they hold street races, too. They're the one hosting _this_ and they even take percentages of the bets placed. It's aggravating how good they are at every damn thing," he cursed at his best friend for dominating so many different things.  
  
  


Nightcrawler most definitely ranked as the no. 1 most dangerous druglord in the nation and ranked somewhere in the world's top ten, but Doomsday was slowly approaching that spot. Though it took him one year longer to catch up with Nightcrawler, he was just in reach of that same throne he forever craved.  
  
  


"Y'all are partners, though, right?" (Y/N) questioned his aggravation.  
  
  


"Duh, granny. Follow along, please."  
  
  


She punched the side of his rib cage, toppling the man over in pain. A smirk fell upon her face when she came to the conclusion, once again, that she still had it.  
  
  


"Anyway, like I was saying before I was _so_ _rudely_ _interrupted_ , Nekoma specializes in coke, acid, and weapons, mainly chemical bombs. Different from the last time you asked for an update, yeah? We finally got our hands on a fuck ton of uranium. Of course, I'm the brains behind it, but Zelda and the rest are a huge help. I gave Karasuno a flamethrower about a year ago and Red Crow won't fucking stop burning his enemies. He's a sadist, I tell ya'," he mentioned Hinata after an explanation of his own gang.  
  
  


"We _been_ knew he likes to see blood, you're late. How much is it for a rocket launcher, though?" she asked, interested in investing a rocket launcher for her collection; (Y/N) also happened to be entirely too aware of Hinata's tendencies to be one of the most chaotic gang members in Miami.  
  
  


"Shut up, granny. I'm not giving you a damn rocket launcher, I'm already paying for all your expenses since you wanna be a lazy ass and not work. Why are your grades so bad? Please stop wasting my money if you're not taking college seriously," Kuroo finally got the chance to express his distaste for her wasting his money without her hanging up the phone and ignoring him for a week.  
  
  


"I'm about to graduate, might as well stick it out. High John said to pay for my shit like a _real_ man, plus I saved you from meeting God. So, automatically, you owe me, _bestie_ ," (Y/N) cackled, making sure to remind him of the debt he was in.  
  
  


"You're so _aggravating_. Anyway, everyone else here is too small to worry about, so, onto their names. Aoba Johsai's leader is G.K., short for Great King because the new generation started calling him that, but I don't even know where it came from. His second in command is Trigger Finger because he doesn't hesitate to shoot anybody he suspects," Kuroo finally started to correlate names to faces for (Y/N).  
  
  


"I fuck with his style."  
  
  


"I'd figure since you were the no. 1 gunslinger in the nation, granny. You still are, now that I think about it. Ask them for some R.I.P. bullets, I'm sure you'd like them even if they're a bit messy. Onto Date Tech, their leader is Acid Hitter because he throws acid onto every damn body like this is fucking _England_. Brick, their newest member, climbed up the ladder too easily and became second in command. Don't tell anybody I said this, but, apparently, he's rocking 10 inches," Kuroo said, causing (Y/N) to laugh.  
  
  


"Why did I need to know that?" she released an ugly cackle, prompting Kuroo's face to scrunch in disgust.  
  
  


"Since you wanna fuck my weed man, I figured you would wanna know."  
  
  


" _He_ fucked _me_! Are you dumb or—"  
  
  


"Anyway, Shiratorizawa's leader is Wakatoshi. He uses his real name because he's _too good_ to use a street name, but we call him Waka Flocka 2.0 since he wants to be a buzzkill. His second in command is Sin and he was here before Red Crow, so he took the title of 'most crazy' when it _should_ be Red Crow."  
  
  


"WAKA FLOCKA FLAME 2.0?!" (Y/N) screeched, holding onto her stomach in pain from the rounds of laughter she released, provoking the surrounding gangs to offer her a questionable gaze.  
  
  


In the distance, Kuroo saw Kenma walking up to the pair with a clipboard in his hands, running his fingers through his hair in irritation. Held up in the palm of his hand was a cup of water for the hysterical woman, grimacing at the breathless noises she permitted herself to make. Akaashi taught the boy what to do in situations like these, so he made sure to keep plastic cups and water bottles on him. (Y/N) snatched the water gladly and patted her chest, trying to calm down her boasts and drink the water without choking on it. Once calmed down, she raised her head and gave the boy a bright smile.  
  
  


"Hey, Kenma, _babyboy_!" she made sure to always emphasize 'babyboy' when talking to the cutie, though his attitude and his criminal activities were far from 'cute'; he just happened to be a very attractive criminal.  
  
  


"Control yourself," he replied, waving at her as a greeting and returning to wherever he originally came from.  
  
  


However, he was caught off guard when a car skimmed around the corner and came to a fast stop in front of Kenma, nearly knocking him over his feet due to how close the vehicle halted. If they were a second later in stepping on the brakes, Kenma would've definitely been sent to the hospital. Despite that, he shrugged his shoulders and continued on after holding up a middle finger to the folks that almost sent him flying across the parking lot.  
  
  


"Asshole!" Kuroo yelled, scanning over Kenma's unbothered figure to make sure he wasn't touched.  
  
  


Unsurprisingly, he continued to stride over to Aoba Johsai, jotting down unrecognizable words on his clipboard and clearly not caring about the car as much as Kuroo did. Sometimes, he wished Kuroo didn't act like they were each other's boyfriends, but he couldn't blame him due to his small size and his weak physique from the coke, so he endured the overprotective traits he possessed and went about his night.  
  
  


"Damn crackheads don't know where the hell they're going," he ran his hand through his thin black hair, earning a questioning gaze from (Y/N).  
  
  


"Aren't...aren't you a—"  
  
  


"I don't smoke _crack_!!"  
  
  


Kuroo dragged his hands down his face and smacked (Y/N)'s shoulder, pointing to another gang so he could finish the dragged out explanations and get away from her.  
  
  


"Fukurodani's leader is Nightcrawler, his second in command is Augusta. After High John retired, he truly became the biggest druglord in the nation—"  
  
  


"Wait a _damn_ minute..."  
  
  


(Y/N)'s eyes enlarged in realization, connecting the dots she would've long since connected if Bokuto didn't have her booted for two days in a row.  
  
  


"You're telling me Ko is a _drugLORD_?!"  
  
  


Her mouth dropped to the parking lot ground, feeling an unfathomable amount of shame and stupidity flow through her barely working brain, reason being it was way too far past her bedtime. She could barely function since she's been awake for so long, but she managed to hold out until Kuroo would finally conclude his observations. Said man groaned again in realization that the conversation wouldn't end as quickly as he wished.  
  
  


"Duh, granny. Bigger than Doomsday. _No. 1 in the nation._ Top ten in the world. Do you need to take your pills?"  
  
  


"You didn't tell me he was huge! I thought he was a regular ass plug and had a vendor. He has his _own_ plantations?!" (Y/N) dragged her hands down her face.  
  
  


Even if she wanted to live a normal life, the normal life didn't want to _live_ _with_ _her_ , for she attracted trouble no matter where she went.  
  
  


"Yes, (Y/N), how did you think he got that... _Cadillac_...?" Kuroo was, unfortunately, reminded of the event that took place in the front seat of his friend's car; he would have to remind himself to never sit in the passenger's seat of Bokuto's car ever again.  
  
  


"Swear to god I'm actually a fucking granny. Does he know who I am?" (Y/N) groaned in distress, dramatically placing her hands atop her fresh braids and keeping her eyebrows alert.  
  
  


"No, he talks about this girl a lot and...looks like it was _you_. I would've never guessed. High John would go hysterical hearing his nephew is involved with _you_ , of all women," he cackled very similarly to High John.  
  
  


"He's High John's _nephew_?" (Y/N) asked once again, further distressing herself due to the new information she had no idea how to handle.  
  
  


"I just said that, (Y/N). He basically adopted Nightcrawler after kidnapping him from Japan."  
  
  


She was genuinely shocked that the words _'Jamaican man'_ and _'Cuba'_ didn't ring a bell in her head when Bokuto basically divulged his entire villain origin story. However, she was inherently touching mars, so she couldn't blame herself completely for her density when drugged up. She had no idea how loud his weed happened to be.  
  
  


"Yup, he told me about that, but I was high as fuck and he didn't mention any names."  
  
  


"Oh, so you left me for _his_ weed? Is that it?" Kuroo crossed his arms.  
  
  


"Yes, sorry it had to be this way, but his shit is so good it makes me feel like an addict," she concluded, tossing her helmet back and forth between her palms—a signal she did when she got what she wanted and she was ready to hit the road.  
  
  


"So, now that I got names and faces, along with their traits, I think I'm straight. I'll catch you la—" (Y/N) attempted to relay her goodbyes, but got interrupted by a familiar voice.  
  
  


"(Y/N)!!" two bodies clad in orange and black hoodies ran up to the woman, inciting a bright, toothy smile on the woman who allowed the pair to hold the entirety of her heart.  
  
  


She almost felt bad about the way she planned to leave without greeting them first, but her exhaustion settled in far faster than she wanted it to. The boys who ran up to her shoved each other around in order to be the first to embrace (Y/N), much to her enjoyment. The pair always happened to be a bit more eccentric compared to the dealers she previously involved herself in, so she considered them a 'fresh breath of air', for they provided her with a fresh perspective on how to both view and handle the underworld.  
  
  


"Shoyo! Tobio! I missed y'all!" she welcomed the boys in a tight hug, squeezing them with as much force as they squeezed her.  
  
  


(Y/N) was very close with the members of Karasuno, for they're part of the reason she's still living to this day. There wasn't enough gratitude she could conjure up that'd match their kindness and their selflessness, despite their chaotic tendencies. In fact, she found their sadistic side endearing, for it was an unusual and unique switch of auras they could produce. They were a multilayered group of misfits, and she loved it because they reminded her too much of Sanguine, so she couldn't resist the attachment she developed to Karasuno.  
  
  


After Sanguine fell, she deepened an unhealthy fixation to Karasuno that's since died down, but, five years ago, you wouldn't see her without hanging off the arm of Hinata or Asahi. Memories drifting back to that time of obsession continued to haunt her and make her cringe in the middle of trying to fall asleep since it was often too embarrassing to deal with.  
  
  


"What've you been up to?!" Hinata exclaimed, ingraining his eyes with sparkles.  
  
  


"Trying to finish college. Shit is slight work," (Y/N) smirked, trying to appear as cool to the pair when she flipped her hair behind her shoulder.  
  
  


Kuroo scrunched his face up and bucked his head forward, placing his hands on his hips like a suspicious father who caught their daughter lying.   
  
  


"If it was slight work, you'd have better gra—"  
  
  


"ANYWAY! How've y'all been? It's been too long," she interrupted the man, provoking a tick mark to appear on his forehead.  
  
  


"We're good! Blackjack and Silver Yen are stepping down soon and I'm gonna be the new leader!" Hinata revealed, clearly ecstatic at the idea of taking over Karasuno and causing as much chaos as he desired.  
  
  


"No, it's gonna be _me_!!" Kageyama retorted, instigating a back and forth argument between the two.  
  
  


"No, me!!"  
  
  


(Y/N) was entirely too accustomed to their shameless argument, often finding herself wheezing when they began throwing stupid insults that could almost be taken as compliments. Arguments like those used to comfort her when she was at her lowest, distracting her from the ghosts she witnessed walking around her bubble and molding her deep frowns into smiles. Truly, she had them to thank for preventing wrinkles forming on her face at such a young age.  
  
  


As they continued to bicker, (Y/N) rolled her eyes and shifted her red helmet back and forth between her palms once again, gaining the attention of the boys who knew her habits and what they meant.  
  
  


"Well, it was nice seeing you boys, but it's way past my bedtime. Tell Daichi, Suga, Asahi, and Ryu I said _'fuck bitches, get money',_ " she held up a peace sign with her right hand, inducing pouts out of Kageyama and Hinata.  
  
  


"Do you have to go? Why don't you race like old times?" Hinata suggested, reminding the girl of the days she used to cruise in a real car and instigate races with random people on the interstate.  
  
  


At this point in her life, she forgot how to drive a regular car, so she wouldn't be caught street racing for a long time. A memory of her telling Bokuto she couldn't drive arose in her head, causing her to furrow her eyebrows in deep thought. It'd been much too long since she's been in the driver's seat of a car, and she knew how well she used to drift along tight turns, but she wasn't ready to hop back inside of a car. She lived just fine on her motorcycle—her _baby_ —so she didn't plan on entering any racing contests like Hinata wanted. She remembered when they were just babies, watching her race down the road like she was on the run from the world. Hinata held that same bright look in his eyes he'd give her after she won a race by a long shot, churning a sense of nostalgia in the pit of (Y/N)'s stomach until Kuroo spoke up.  
  
  


"Let the granny go to bed, she's probably been up since 6:00 AM," he teased, earning another punch from (Y/N) in the same spot she hit him before.  
  
  


"I'm not a granny!! Anyway, the offer is tempting, babyboy, but I got major plans to draft and I need enough sleep to do it," she reaffirmed, tossing the helmet in her palms even faster so they can get the idea that she wanted to leave.  
  
  


Hinata's and Kageyama's moods dimmed when they came to the conclusion she wasn't staying to see their race against Nekoma. Of course, they knew she's always been and will continue to be one of their biggest supporters, and they're well aware of her distaste of the lifestyle ever since she had to live with her family up north for a couple of months after Sanguine fell, but they still had hope she'd want to see their growth in the last few years, especially against one of the top lords in Miami. Despite that sliver of hope, they discerned her grandma tendencies very well and allowed her to go about her night.  
  
  


"Fine, are you coming to my party on the 9th, though?" Hinata questioned, unsure if she got word about the celebration he was holding for the upcoming transfer of power in Karasuno.  
  
  


The tossing in (Y/N)'s palms suddenly ceased, causing her to stare straight ahead until she locked eyes with Hinata once again. Bokuto previously invited her to a party his _'bro'_ was having on the same night, and judging by who he was involved with, it was definitely the same party Hinata was hosting. A light bulb that had been dead due to her drowsiness suddenly sparked, lighting up her entire head and removing the previous feelings of sleepiness from her system. A curious and slightly mischievous look formed on her face the same time Kuroo face-palmed himself, aware that she was far from done for the night and he'd have to bear with her still slightly intoxicated simplemindedness for a longer period of time.  
  
  


"Yes, actually, now that I think about it...Hinata? Let me see the invitee list."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"HIGH AS FUCK WITH A**   
**COLD FLOW AND A LOADED**   
**GUN. HEARD YOU LOOKIN'**   
**FOR TROUBLE. WHAT? I'M**   
**SUPPOSED TO RUN?"**

**— J. COLE. | LOOKING FOR TROUBLE**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


**_CHAPTER INSPO:_ **   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_[(Y/N)'S HAIRSTYLE]_ **

**_[(Y/N)'S OUTFIT]_ **

**_[(Y/N)'S MOTORCYCLE]_ **

**_[HINATA'S CAR]_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some names if you were still confused. Any names not mentioned are not mentioned for a reason.
> 
> "Roman: The Gunslinger" - Y/N  
> "Nightcrawler" - Bokuto  
> "9" - Kuroo  
> "Augusta" - Akaashi  
> "Terminator" - Terushima  
> "Zelda" - Kenma  
> "Red Crow" - Hinata  
> "Revon King" - Kageyama  
> "G.K." - Oikawa  
> "Trigger Finger" - Iwaizumi  
> "Blackjack" - Daichi  
> "Silver Yen" - Suga  
> "Grim Reaper" - Tanaka  
> "Ace of Spades" - Asahi  
> "Waka Flocka Flame 2.0" - Ushijima  
> "Sin" - Tendou  
> "Brick" - Aone  
> "Acid Hitter" - Kenji Futakuchi


	6. DESPERADO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORD COUNT: 12.6K  
> TW: whole lotta dr(ed)ugs, oral, car sex (yes...again), dirty talk, drug-induced sex (again, what did you expect they're literally druglords😭), penetration, overstimulation, choking, spanking, just look at the tags LMFAO.

**"IF YOU WANT, WE COULD**   
**BE RUNAWAYS, RUNNIN'**   
**FROM ANY SIGHT OF LOVE.**   
**THERE AIN'T NOTHING HERE**   
**FOR ME ANYMORE, BUT I**   
**DON'T WANNA BE ALONE."**

**— RIHANNA. | DESPERADO**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


_"Nephew! C'mere!"_   
  
  


_Bokuto's head rose from his sleeping position on the couch, scrambling to wipe the drool that secreted from his mouth during his nap. His eyelids felt like a pair of 80 pound dumbbells on his head due to the slump he's been in for the past few weeks. Ever since he accidentally pulled the trigger on one of his closest friends, the trio had to hide the body and flee the scene, never speaking about their crime to a soul who wasn't there to witness it. High John could tell something happened when the trio returned home with grim expressions, but he didn't question it, for it truly taught them the dark reality of High John's world._   
  
  


_Bokuto sat up from the sinking couch and pulled his still half-conscious body off of the furniture, the only thing keeping him going was the shout of High John from his office room upstairs. The boy groaned in annoyance when he realized he had to tackle a flight of stairs before he could once again seethe in bottomless despair. He dragged his bare feet up the cold oak wood flooring, despising each step he had to take until the boy finally reached a clearing. His body had put itself on autopilot mode and spun itself around the corner, treading a well memorized path since High John loved to call him for anything at all, even if it was to just show him some new brass knuckles he invested in._   
  
  


_He knocked on the door three times because High John hated synchronized sounds that ended in even numbers. Everything about High John was entirely too odd, no pun intended, that Bokuto stopped questioning it and being called 'nephew' became second nature to him._   
  
  


_"It's open!" he shouted, allowing Bokuto to twist the golden doorknob and enter his workspace._   
  
  


_He didn't bother to take in the details that filled High John's workspace, for it had too many knickknacks that he distinguished a new item every time he walked inside. Just like the rest of the house, oak wood filled the entire room to the point it'd make you sick; it really did scream 'old man'. Bokuto had to do a double take when he saw the hanging bones on the wall._   
  
  


_"Nephew, my boy! I got some Adderall from a partner of mine after I told them about your situation. When you run out, let me know so I can get you more," High John pulled a pill bottle out of his desk drawer and tossed it to the boy, turning in his chair to face his nephew._   
  
  


_Bokuto's eyes went wide when he caught the pill bottle, looking back and forth between his uncle in confusion. High John wouldn't even let the boy touch ibuprofen, much less an addictive antidepressant. After the withdrawals he went through and finally recovered from, his uncle was unbelievably bent on not allowing Bokuto another drug until his brain developed a bit more. However, High John noticed the change in not only Bokuto's attitude, but the rest of the Japanese boys he took in. He already gave Kuroo and Akaashi the medicine they needed, but for the past few weeks, he's been debating back and forth between refusing or allowing Bokuto an antidepressant when he was at high risk of experiencing deathly withdrawals._   
  
  


_Despite that, he knew the dangers of low serotonin levels, for he's been alive long enough to experience plenty of highs and lows. So, instead of allowing the boy to simmer in his returned depression, High John sucked up his pride and gave him some medication._   
  
  


_"Thank Roman for that. They had it sent right from Miami as soon as I called, even though I could've got it myself, really."_   
  
  


_"Oh? Who's Roman?"_   
  
  


_"Boy, you don't know Roman?!"_   
  
  


_Bokuto shook his head, earning a groan from High John._   
  
  


_"Roman's a former druglord that's centered in Miami, leader of Sanguine. They used to be the no. 1 most dangerous gang in the United States and ranked somewhere in the top 15 in the world. They sold some of the best fucking weed I ever smoked in my life and if you said anything about their entourage, you'd be dead within 24 hours. Roman caught you so unexpectedly that you wouldn't realize you're dead until you see the clouds! Roman and they right hand man, Typhoon, was savages!" High John laughed at the last few sentences despite how grim they were._   
  
  


_"It pains me to say that Roman got their nickname from a_ fucking _Nicki Minaj song. I asked them to_ please _make up a different story, but they stuck with it because Roman was like their alternate personality. Typhoon got his name because when he made his debut, a typhoon hit the place he was about to rob. Ever since, there's been a storm of chaos everywhere he went."_  
  
  


_"Roman was a fucking beast, especially alongside Typhoon or even their biggest business partner—Inarizaki. Two of the biggest people in the underworld were_ black _, you fucking_ love _to see it. They had so many connections that they were almost as good as me, and they're both your age. I think Roman's two years older, though."_  
  
  


_"Anyway, Roman alongside Sanguine retired, and we don't know what Typhoon's been up to. Inarizaki transferred their power to a new leader named Doomsday and the rest is history. Roman still has their connections to a newer gang called Karasuno, so they was able to get these pills with ease," he pointed to the pill bottle._   
  
  


_High John feigned the story to be believable, remembering the oath that every druglord and gangster had taken after Sanguine 'retired' and Inarizaki 'transferred power'. He absolutely itched to spill the truth to his nephew, but he didn't want to betray Roman's trust in him, especially since Roman still comes to visit him and Kuroo often._   
  
  


_High John stared at the pill bottle hanging from Bokuto's palm, switching the atmosphere of his office in seconds._   
  
  


_"Take two a day_ only _. One in the morning, one at 3:00 PM. Anymore and I'll have you sober for the rest of your life," he sternly looked at the boy, sending a glare promising absolute despair if he dared to cross him._  
  
  


_Bokuto loved to see that side of his uncle because it reaffirmed how mighty and powerful his mentor happened to be. He wouldn't dare to cross him, for he's seen what's become of the men in his entourage that dared to do the same— and it wasn't a pretty sight. Despite the playful persona he lets on, the man is a sadist when it comes to betrayal or his entourage getting harmed._   
  
  


_"You sure? I mean, I'm kinda nervous—"_   
  
  


_"Take it before I change my mind."_   
  
  


_Bokuto never left High John's office so fast, silently thanking Roman in his head and wishing for a chance to meet the figure his uncle talked so highly of. He was very curious to know about the transfer of power in Inarizaki, but he put that think-piece aside and continued to contemplate Roman. He must've been a respectable and admirable man if he acquired praise from High John of all people._   
  
  


...  
  
  


"ALL THESE BITCHES IS MY SONS—"  
  
  


"(Y/N), please—"  
  
  


"AND I'MA GO AND GET SOME BIBS FOR 'EM."  
  
  


Bokuto had accidentally called (Y/N) in the middle of her daily karaoke session, so he now stood witness to the ugly yet endearing shrieks of Nicki Minaj lyrics leaving (Y/N)'s mouth. She had the camera set up on the bathroom counter so he could see her flailing her body around with a can of mousse used as a fake microphone. As they called each other more frequently, (Y/N) became further comfortable with showing her less than sexy side to the more than sexy druglord. Usually, around someone who looked like him, nobody would act so carefree and jaunty in his presence, yet the woman made it clear on many occasions she held no fear towards him. In fact, she harbored feelings of allurement when in close vicinity to him. He began to notice certain small things about her, like the way she dances, or the hand movements she makes when nervous, or even the way she scarfs down food because she didn't know when her last meal would be. The last observation was odd, yes, but hardly anything could get past Bokuto's eyes when he stared the woman down for long enough.  
  
  


Or, at least, that's what he thought.  
  
  


"IF I HAD A DICK, I WOULD PULL IT OUT AND _PISS_ ON 'EM."  
  
  


She was actually very sweet once you looked closer than the off-putting persona she held onto to ward off unwanted men.  
  
  


Bokuto originally called (Y/N) because he desperately missed her and she responded with, _"it's only been four days!"_ Despite that, he still wanted to keep company with her, so he forced her out of her pajamas and she was currently getting ready in her bathroom. She started up her playlist and the rest was history because Bokuto had no idea how long it'd been since she began yelling the lyrics to every song played. His eyes could watch her reveal her true self for hours, yet his body wouldn't allow him because he wanted to take her out and experience her physical state in close proximity to his own.  
  
  


"Are you ready yet? I'm outside."  
  
  


"Give me a couple more minutes!"  
  
  


"So...an hour?"  
  
  


"Look, look! I'm putting on my shoes as we speak. Where are you taking me, anyway?" she asked whilst pointing the camera at her shoes before tying the laces.  
  
  


"Just a ride uptown, I gotta show you something! Come outside and you'll see!" he replied, smiling brightly into the camera.  
  
  


(Y/N) ended up mirroring his own grin, always happy to see when he'd shift into his more playful personality compared to his 'bad boy' facade. She loved to observe folks and see what layers they constructed over the years, but she never looked too deep in fear of finding something she didn't like. However, despite that fear, she continued to catch glimpses of Bokuto at every chance she'd get, sometimes making it entirely too obvious she watched him like a hawk. Honestly, it was more endearing than creepy to Bokuto, knowing someone returned the same infatuation he held for said person, so he smirked to himself every time he sensed (Y/N)'s (E/C) eyes on his body.  
  
  


The woman finally trailed down the stairs of her apartment, keys jingling on the side of her hip with each step she took. She didn't bother to look back up—mainly because she'd trip if she didn't consistently watch her feet—until the ground of the earth was reached. Her head raised itself from the concrete and caught eye of a certain white vehicle, waiting patiently for its passenger. (E/C) eyes glanced over the vehicle as a groan left her mouth, knowing not a single resident in her complex made enough money to own the Hummer she currently looked at.  
  
  


" _Kotaro_ , you did not just pull up in a limo."  
  
  


"I absolutely did. Come closer, it doesn't bite," he cackled unattractively in the video call, distressing (Y/N) further.  
  
  


"You love to stress me out, huh?"  
  
  


"It's my favorite pastime, doll."  
  
  


(Y/N) hung up the phone when she saw the chauffeur stand next to the backseat door of the white limousine. A stressful chuckle left her mouth when the older man bowed in her not-so-fancy presence, placing her pointer and middle fingers on her forehead while the thumb rested on her cheekbone, making it obvious she felt more out of place than in the damn Cadillac. The chauffeur moved his hand to open the door and motioned her to hop in, making sure she didn't trip over her sneakers whilst climbing in.  
  
  


She settled her butt on the soft cushion and looked to the side, catching eye of the mischievous smirk adorning Bokuto's frustratingly attractive face.  
  
  


" _You_...are going to be the death of me," (Y/N) pointed at the man accusingly, earning a hefty laugh.  
  
  


"I just might be if you let me," he winked.  
  
  


"You're a _nasty_ , _freaky_ hoe."  
  
  


"Am not!!"  
  
  


"You just...you just suggested—whatever, hand me the damn chardonnay," (Y/N) made herself at home and pulled a wine glass off the rack attached to the mini bar, waving the glass around and waiting for when Bokuto would pop open the bottle of wine.  
  
  


"Where are we going? Did I dress nice enough? I can always go change," she suggested, tugging on her clothing that wouldn't be deemed fancy enough to wear in a limo.  
  
  


"Nope, you dressed just fine."  
  
  


"Great. Did you bring some? I've had a stressful week," (Y/N) chuckled, watching Bokuto pop open the bottle of wine and spill a little on his chiseled chest; a couple of globs got on his collarbone as well, providing (Y/N) a magnificent view of clothing tugging on sharp muscles.  
  
  


She pursued her lips and smirked, meeting Bokuto's innocent eyes.  
  
  


"And _I'm_ supposed to be the freak?!"  
  
  


"I didn't even say anything!" (Y/N) retorted, knowing well about the suggestive look she gave Bokuto.  
  
  


"That look doesn't make me feel better!"  
  
  


"Well, roll me a blunt and maybe I'll stop!"  
  
  


Bokuto stopped reaching into the back of his pocket for his pre-rolled blunt, contemplating (Y/N)'s statement. Truly, he didn't want her to stop staring at him with that hungry look in her eyes, becoming further and further ready to act out on her desires the longer she had to wait for a hit. In fact, he looked her up and down in anticipation of her executing her inner thoughts.  
  
  


Instead, however, she scooted closer to the boy and repeatedly tapped his arm, rushing for him to pull out the weed so she could soothe her nerves.  
  
  


" _You_ are an _addict_."  
  
  


"And _you_ are too damn _slow_."  
  
  


(Y/N) toppled over the man and started wrestling with him, searching every crevice of his clothes for the blunt she knew he had on him. Her hands roughly padded every part of his upper body whilst Bokuto tugged against her arms, knowing he could overpower her easily but he didn't think to use his strength at the moment due to how off guard he had been caught; add that to the fact (Y/N) held similar traits to a real life crackhead sitting outside of a 7-Eleven.  
  
  


"Crackhead! You're a crack fiend!"  
  
  


"We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way, Ko! Either way, I'm getting that damn weed!" (Y/N) retorted, still straddling Bokuto whilst poking the sides of his ribs, earning a ticklish laugh in response.  
  
  


The laugh made (Y/N) pause her shenanigans, looking over the boy with a mischievous smirk etched into her features. Bokuto realized he'd been caught red-handed, for it wasn't like he was used to being touched so openly and by surprise unless it was an opp after his head. However, this particular woman happened to be after his _heart_ —and his _weed_ , too.  
  
  


"You're ticklish?" she teased, inducing a blush out of him.  
  
  


"And what about it?" he retorted, obviously embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising situation.  
  
  


"That's so cute! You're so fucking pretty! My pretty boy!" she plonked her palms on each side of Bokuto's cheek, twirling his head around as if she already had a drink before hopping in the limo.  
  
  


A nervous yet endearing smile molded onto Bokuto's face as he realized he was basically being cradled. It's been too long since a woman has held him in their arms, for the 'bad boy' appearance made them feel only lust and uneasiness. In reality, he'd gush and melt into the arms of any woman who held enough confidence to think they could handle a druglord. He felt unbelievably lucky that (Y/N) had the balls to call a lord 'cute' and 'pretty boy', which etched the quick feeling of vulnerability and serenity into his body. In response, he brought up his right arm from his back pocket and unveiled a blunt, using his left arm to search for a lighter in his discarded jacket. Once he brought the materials together, he lit up the object and held it to (Y/N)'s lips, allowing her to suck on it like she did before. After retracting his arm, he watched the smoke leave her lips and spoke up once again.  
  
  


"Sorry I couldn't hang the other day, I had to sell."  
  
  


(Y/N) rose her eyebrow in confusion, looking down into his bright yellow eyes and sensing an emotion he allowed her to stand witness to just four nights ago.  
  
  


"Why're you on the block when you're a lord? You can get somebody else to do that?"  
  
  


The question caused Bokuto's eyes to widen, almost disappointed at the fact she knew he wasn't regular.  
  
  


"Ah—you know?" (Y/N) discerned the cheerless tone in his voice, nothing like how he was before.  
  
  


"Yes, Ko, you're famous. I was bound to figure out some time soon," she gave him a soft, mellow look.  
  
  


Bokuto, however, still held doubts due to the various women he's come in contact with that'd scram from his presence in fear. He knew they had every right to, thanks to his intimidating appearance and what High John had told him about women, but it didn't help to soothe the pain in his heart when they'd avert their gaze shrinkingly every time he walked in a room. You eventually get used to it after a couple of years, but accustomization never healed a tattered heart. Even when he found a woman that had balls of steel and almost made _him_ cower away, he still had his doubts he knew he needed to clean up instead of projecting.  
  
  


"You don't think of me differently...right?"  
  
  


He couldn't help projecting. After all, fearful gazes from others are all that he knows. Be that as it may, Bokuto found a woman that didn't give a damn, so the next words exchanged both surprised him and lulled his nerves.  
  
  


"Of course not. I have no room to judge," (Y/N) truly didn't have room to judge.  
  
  


"You're still that _freaky_ _ass_ babyboy who stresses me out in every conversation we have," she sighed, mind drifting back to the multiple video calls they held; he consistently managed to get on every single one of her nerves.  
  
  


It didn't annoy her as much as one would think. In fact, it either calmed her mind or allowed her to show her chaotic energy to a man just as chaotic as her. She didn't have to live in fear of a love interest dumping her because of her eccentric and teasing ways, for the man across her screen fell for every trait she both unveiled and left behind curtains. Bokuto knew he still had much more to figure about her, but that's what made their late night escapades fun. He discovered new facts and traits the longer he chased her, and it made him realize he definitely wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Even when the day came that the stars aligned, the moon was full, the earth was bare of all life, and he found out everything there was to know about (Y/N) down to the very first memory she had as a baby, he wouldn't cease his chase for her heart into the infinity of their deathless life.  
  
  


"Now, baby, tell me why you're still on the block," (Y/N) spoke up again in a soft voice after she and Bokuto sat through a moment of tranquil silence.  
  
  


He held up the blunt to her lips and allowed her another drawl, observing the uninterrupted globs of smoke leaving her plump lips.  
  
  


"Well, I don't know why I still do it, really. I guess it takes me back to when I used to be a regular plug. I don't do it often, but when I do, it's out of nostalgia. And, I think I'm addicted to adrenaline," Bokuto laughed heftily, dragging himself back into his previous state of cheerfulness.  
  
  


"Ah, understandable. Don't get arrested or else I'm leaving you," (Y/N) smiled half-jokingly, causing Bokuto to choke on the extra smoke that accidentally entered his lungs.  
  
  


"What?! You won't be down for me when I'm in prison?!"  
  
  


"Not unless you break out!" (Y/N) cackled, earning a childish pout from the man below her.  
  
  


"You're so mean to me!"  
  
  


"Am not! I'm an angel."  
  
  


"You're the personification of Satan himself."  
  
  


"I am JESUS CHRIST himself, in the flesh!"  
  
  


"Oh yeah? Turn water into wine."  
  
  


(Y/N), almost too quickly, got up from her position on Bokuto and searched through the mini fridge attached to the bar, bringing out a single water bottle from one of the frozen racks. After being brought out from its igloo, the bottle began clouding up from the warm air inside the limousine, radiating a challenging atmosphere. (Y/N) hauled out another wine glass and held up the water bottle showingly.  
  
  


"Water?" she poured the water into the wine glass, shortly plucking the glass bottle of Chardonnay.  
  
  


She shot Bokuto a smirk, lightly shaking the wine to bring attention to it. She poured the wine in the half full glass of water and plonked the Chardonnay back in place, holding up the wine glass as if it were the reincarnation of Jesus Christ himself.  
  
  


"Wine, bitch."  
  
  


She slammed the glass of watered down wine and spread her arms out, bucking her head.  
  
  


" _Boom_."  
  
  


Bokuto dragged his tattooed hands down his face, groaning at her unmoving and persistent tendencies to make sure she could always have the last laugh. Despite that, he laughed anyway, not even knowing how to respond to (Y/N)'s simple yet complex attitude.  
  
  


"You—I, you're so—ugh. Fuck it, you're Jesus Christ now."  
  
  


"Exactly. Now, c'mere," she sat back down and brought her arms forward, straddling and embracing the man once again.  
  
  


After meeting up with Nekoma and, eventually, the rest of Karasuno, she's been awake all night drafting and making plans to discover what course of action would be the best. (Y/N) ran into so many dead ends in her drafts after she returned home that she couldn't catch any sort of sleep, nor could she calm the quick thumps in her heart. Her body didn't allow her to sleep until she formed a foolproof plan that wouldn't result in her closest friends leaving her for the afterlife. When Bokuto called her earlier that day, he practically forced her to catch some shut-eye and then woke her up again just one hour ago so he could take her somewhere. He wasn't entirely too sure on what she was so stressed over, but he made it his duty to be her source of comfort in a world of adversity. He'd be her shoulder to lean on whenever her life became too heavy to bear.  
  
  


"What's been stressing you out, (Y/N)?" he asked, twirling a single braid in his hand whilst the other continued to rub circles in her back.  
  
  


"Plans. I need to check in with my family, too, as much as I don't wanna."  
  
  


"Something up between you and your family?"  
  
  


"They're manipulative and don't wanna see me winning in life," she sulked, shortly feeling the weed infiltrate her system.  
  
  


"They're the type to want you to follow _their_ dreams instead of your own, huh?" he briefly summarized exactly how her family operated, surprising her a bit.  
  
  


He ceased twirling the single braid and reached his hand to the side, grabbing a bottle of Chardonnay and pouring it into an empty glass. With the same hand, he picked it up and dragged it over to his side, tilting (Y/N)'s head back so she could see the offering. She retracted one arm from around his neck and took a hold of it, gulping it down like it was a shot of tequila.  
  
  


"Shit, this is strong. I thought it was just Chardonnay?"  
  
  


"I add Patrón to it 'cause it doesn't fuck me up enough," he confessed, unexpectedly earning a laugh from (Y/N) instead of an angry reaction.  
  
  


"You're an alcoholic, too? My whole family is and I'm pretty sure I can be one if I drink enough," she spilled another fact about her family, feeling close enough—both physically and mentally—to confess things she's never told another love interest before.  
  
  


"I've noticed we're really the same, (Y/N), especially the more you confess about your life," he said while smiling, taking the empty glass from her hands and placing it to the side.  
  
  


"Ugh, I hate confessing shit about me," she groaned, unknowingly admitting another trait about her without meaning to.  
  
  


Bokuto's gaze drifted back and forth between the blunt and the clear glass of alcohol, tilting his head in realization that when she was sober, she was more likely to hold up a feigned wall of untruthfulness than when intoxicated. He truly did love to see her intoxicated, not only because it reminded him of himself when he wasn't all too there, but because she willingly told things about herself she most likely hasn't told other men before. He couldn't lie that the assumption didn't make him swell up in pride and pushed him to be more touchy, but he knew his limits and had a vague idea of (Y/N)'s limits, too. He just wanted to see her true self and watch her come undone in his hands—of course, in more ways than one.  
  
  


"I do too, doll."  
  
  


"Yeah, you sure do. You had me believing you were a regular ass dealer for nearly a week," she laughed, pressing her cheek in the space between his neck and shoulder.  
  
  


"I had to! What if you ran away and we couldn't experience this?"  
  
  


"Baby, I used to wrestle with snakes in the forest for fun when I was young. You can't scare me off that easily. Plus, you're a sweetheart, so why run?" she inquired, surprising Bokuto once again.  
  
  


He couldn't go a day without (Y/N) taking him by surprise, and it was almost embarrassing the way his breath would hitch in his throat, making it clear to who he was in close vicinity of that he was shocked. Unlike most people who'd laugh tauntingly at his vulnerability, (Y/N) loved how the smallest things or the smallest phrases would catch him off guard, and she made it known how much she adored it by stroking his tattooed bicep.  
  
  


"Sweetheart? I'm far from that," he scrunched up his eyebrows, for he was indoctrinated to believe that his past actions determined who he was as a person.  
  
  


If all the actions and crimes he committed against humanity were a factor in deciding his persona, he didn't have the privilege of calling himself 'sweet' in any way, shape, or form. However, when (Y/N) came around, she truly had him believing he could become that loving, caring man he wanted to be towards a woman; just to find out that's what he's been all along.  
  
  


"You lie so unprovoked it's ridiculous. Anyway, fuck that. You probably don't see it and only see your flaws, but maybe I'm a little fucked up since I can justify murder and trapping in my head," (Y/N) laughed, tapping his chest to calm her boasts down.  
  
  


He couldn't front that he didn't get a little excited at her boasts of laughter, for it caused her to bounce her body on top of his own. Of course, he didn't desire to ruin a moment of sweetness by pulling his dick out, so he resisted the near inevitable hard on that was bound to return later in the night due to how good she looked, especially since she recently got her hair done. He could hardly resist the urge to pull on it as he ruthlessly fucked her from the back, discerning moans with a mix of pleasure and pain added into the concoction. However, he didn't want to ruin her hairstyle, so he kept his fantasies to himself.  
  
  


"I think you're very sweet, like candy, really."  
  
  


"Wasn't I supposed to be comforting _you_ about your family?"  
  
  


"Ugh, fuck them. I like talking about you."  
  
  


"Yeah, and I like seeing _you_ happy, so I don't want you stressing over your family not wanting you to do what the hell you want. You're a grown ass woman."  
  
  


"I know...it's just discouraging, y'know? I'm meant for more than they wanna let on and it hurts a little."  
  
  


"To hell with that. Even if nobody on this world is on your side, I will be. I wanna see you win in everything you do so I can see that smile of yours one more time."  
  
  


Bokuto tilted (Y/N)'s body backwards so they could meet each other's eyes, getting lost in the swish of emotions and the wavering of their soul in the entrance of their hues. They didn't want to be found anyway, for the rush of being on the run to never be found again by the living realm catered to their deepest desires of embracing themselves in each other's arms. It almost felt like it was them against the world of disapproving gazes filled with not only disappointment, but jealousy, too. While relaxing his body in the couch seat, he allowed his legs to spread a bit more, watching the way (Y/N) thighs opened in synchronization with his own. Bokuto briefly came to the conclusion he and (Y/N) held much more similarities than he thought, and he couldn't wait to discover everything else there was to know about her, both mentally and physically.  
  
  


"My family is just like yours. They hated what I did, and I understand it to a degree since it wasn't something like _'I'm gonna be a book writer in a family of doctors'_. Even then, they just...didn't support me after they found out I had ADHD. They didn't care what happened to me anymore, they kinda just...allowed me to be lost."  
  
  


"Ko..."  
  
  


"I'm okay now, of course. I already found a new family: _Fukurodani_ ," he smiled, sitting up to place a soft kiss on (Y/N)'s cheek as he slowly trailed down to her collarbone.  
  
  


"We both had looks of disappointment sent our way, huh?" he grinned and breathed into her neck, sending well noticeable shivers down her back that he picked up on immediately.  
  
  


The only difference between Bokuto and (Y/N) was that her parents begged her to leave that lifestyle, stunting _her_ fullest potential; Bokuto's parents stopped caring about him and never got him the help he needed, stunting _his_ fullest potential. (Y/N) was meant for this shit, Bokuto wasn't.  
  
  


"That doesn't matter, though. Because I'll get you where you want to be. Wherever your fate is, I'll be there, too. Fuck what the fam' says, I got you, baby."  
  
  


(Y/N) was suddenly taken back to the first night she smoked with Bokuto, high out of her goddamn mind. She remembered the words he mumbled before he started his ministries of making her see stars when her eyes rolled to the back of her head. His exact words were, _"I got you, baby,"_ and, now, (Y/N) couldn't hear those words without melting into pudding in Bokuto's arms. His sucking and his biting on her neck didn't aid in her feelings of difficulty, either, but she didn't want the car to stop and be forced to rush their eagerness to relish in each other's deaths.  
  
  


"I was thinking about what you said."  
  
  


(Y/N) moved her head slightly, but not too much due to Bokuto's bites and kisses on her neck.  
  
  


"Oh? Which one?"  
  
  


"When you said you'd be down for me if I break out of prison," he said, plotting more kisses that trailed upwards rather than downwards.  
  
  


"Yeah, what about it?" she asked, curious to know what type of thoughts were floating through his half-conscious brain.  
  
  


"Would you go on the run with me?"  
  
  


(Y/N) smiled into the light pecks he planted on her cheek, not even having to contemplate her answer for more than a second.  
  
  


"Yeah. This capitalism shit's boring, anyway."  
  
  


The string that held Bokuto's unspoken desires suddenly snapped in two, like a bone that had taken on more weight than it could handle. He could feel adrenaline rush through his body and blood rise to his face, coating his cheeks in a light pink and a sinful red that told tales of many late night affairs. (Y/N) didn't see the look, but she did feel greedy hands grip onto her butt and flip their arrangements so she was positioned as a bottom instead of a top. Her eyes left the snakes on his arm that always seemed to shift in her peripheral vision and met with a yearning pair of yellow hues. It didn't take long to figure out what their position suggested, so (Y/N) nodded and adorned another smile on her lips, permitting Bokuto to act out on his implicit desires.  
  
  


"Go on ahead, babyboy," she stroked his snake tattoo, constantly feeling the need to touch it when in close proximity to him.  
  
  


In a split second, his lips closed in on her own, taking and relishing in the soft flesh she habitually cared for. With his mouth tugging on her own, he wasn't surprised to taste the familiar tang of fruit from her lip gloss, provoking his body to handle hers a little more roughly than before. He truly wanted to be soft and gentle with her, but the sultry aura she radiated no matter what piece of attire she fitted caused the sadist in him to desire her uncoming onto his hands. And, he swiftly felt those chains breaking the moment he discerned soft moans being voiced into his own throat.  
  
  


He pulled his lips away and attacked her neck, once again, with kisses and bites; however, they were far from soft like the ones before. Small squeals and words of encouragement left (Y/N)'s mouth, stating how good he was at kissing and foreplay. The expressions inflated both his confidence and his ego, for he thrived off of compliments more than he'd let on. He allowed his hands to trail upwards from its harsh grip on her butt to the skin of her waist, kneading the area and letting her know he loved every part of her. He knew she was already confident in herself, but that didn't stop Bokuto from physically showing how good he thought she looked, unexpectedly boosting her own confidence as well.  
  
  


She couldn't tell one the last time she had sex, for her standards stopped her from giving herself up to just anybody. She wouldn't admit it, but she was a little nervous, reason being she hadn't been stretched out in years and she didn't know what Bokuto's size happened to be. Judging by his character towards women, she could assume he'd prep her anyway, but the fear still lingered until minutes passed by of him simply touching her and marking her across her upper body.  
  
  


After leaving her now tender collarbone, he pulled back from her scorching body to look at the way she turned into pudding from just a little foreplay. It didn't take more than a second for Bokuto to come to the conclusion that she hasn't had sex in at least 2 years, judging by her sensitivity and the noises she allowed to leave her mouth. A proud smirk etched into his face as he bent down to the side, ruffling through his jacket to find an object he's been meaning to give to her much earlier.  
  
  


His fingers graced the cold exterior of the object and he let out a tiny sigh of relief, grateful to the sunset adorning their windows that he didn't forget it at his place. His fingers tugged on the piece and he retracted his arm to bring it forward, excited to see what (Y/N)'s face would contort into once she caught eye of whatever Bokuto wanted to show her. Swiftly, his hand finally made contact with the air whilst the object in his hand glistened at the touch of a mixture of sunset rays and artificial lighting. He allowed the piece to dangle in (Y/N)'s focal vision, coaxing her half-lidded eyes to widen in pure shock. Her puffy lips dangled open at the unexpected gift she knew was for _her_ , thanks to the first conversation they held at the rollerskating rink.  
  
  


A cute diamond necklace was held above her, clenched onto by tattooed hands and an endearing smile. Bokuto hated empty promises, even if they were jokes, so he took at least one part of her prerequisite seriously and sought out what piece of jewelry he thought would fit her personality the most. Eventually, he settled on a close-fitted necklace that almost acted as a choker, adorning small butterfly charms around its diameter. It didn't even require a magnifying glass to tell every part of it was real, down to the tiny diamonds crammed inside each butterfly.  
  
  


"Sorry it took so long for the necklace, I got it imported and made sure it was authentic," he smiled humbly, moving her braids so he could attach the clips together.  
  
  
  


"I figured you'd want something more of your style, and you wear a lot of 2000's clothes, so I hope you like it."  
  
  


"Ko, this is fucking beautiful," she looked down at her bruised upper chest, obsessed with the way the silver and the clear diamonds complimented her melanated skin.  
  
  


"You like it? You're not lying, right?" he pouted, earning a sweet laugh out of the woman he adored.  
  
  


"No way I couldn't. Plus, it matches everything I wear, so you can bet I'll wear this 'till it breaks," she smiled, noticing the K.B. carved into the back of the most center butterfly.  
  
  


She supposed this was his way of marking her, but she didn't mind, because she was about to mark him as well.  
  
  


"Come back down here, big boy," she motioned her hands for him to fall in her embrace again, catching his chest on her own.  
  
  
  


"Oh? Have I upgraded from babyboy to big boy?" he asked, smirking against her chest once he began kissing and biting on her again.  
  
  


"Just for tonight," she winked, seemingly to nobody, though, for Bokuto was too preoccupied in making sure she warmed up enough to feel comfortable as they moved up a couple of steps.  
  
  


He tugged against the tips of her shirt and she nodded, allowing him to peel the clothing and discard it in a random corner of the Hummer. Yellow eyes trailed over every crevice, fold, and natural mark on her body, taking a mental picture of the sight with his owl-like vision. His gaze trailed upwards and stopped at her breasts, shortly noticing she didn't bother to wear a bra this time as well.  
  
  


"I thought it'd be a regular smoke sesh," (Y/N) laughed embarrassingly, cursing her gullible nature whilst bringing her hands up to cover her brown nipples.  
  
  


Bokuto, however, found his unmatched strength and used one hand to pin both arms above her head, emitting an aura that told (Y/N) _'don't you dare'_. His eyes resembled a mixture of sin and lust, enticing her lower half to throb in excitement and eagerness. It seemed that in this state, nothing would get past his senses, which was odd since he didn't contain close-range vision when he wasn't horny. However, since he shifted every bit of attention onto (Y/N), not even the barely visible throb of her pants and her chest went past his head.  
  
  


Another proud smirk overcame his previous threatening look, relishing in the way he made (Y/N) come undone so easily. He was curious to know how she'd react on his dick, but he knew what was coming soon, he just had to be patience and let her sink into his sinful deeds against her body like the titanic sinking in ice cold water; he had to let her get accustomed to the forgotten waters of scandal. After all, Bokuto had no problem in permitting her all the pleasure she could be given, for he most definitely got off to seeing what his hands could do to her body.  
  
  


"That ain't no problem, baby."  
  
  


He removed his hands from (Y/N)'s wrists, trusting her enough that she wouldn't try to hide herself from him again, and attached his lips onto the bottom of her mounds, trailing his lips in a circle around the nipple before heading straight to the bud. He loved it, for the buds truly reminded him of Hershey Kisses, telling him to kiss against her nipples in adoration. His other hand was brought down to massage her other breast, making sure one didn't get more attention than the other. His fingers and his tongue moved in synchronization, pinching and flicking both buds with the same intensity and speed, driving (Y/N) to release much louder moans, yet still soft. To him, they weren't loud enough, but he knew he'd have her screaming his name the farther they went, so he upheld his patience.  
  
  


The back of (Y/N)'s hand was held up against her lips, muffling the almost embarrassing moans of pleasure, trying to make it seem like she was still composed. However, Bokuto could see through the woman easily, sucking and pinching a little harder until she was forced to grip onto his thin locs, encouraging him to continue his deeds.  
  
  


"Just...like that..." she mumbled, allowing her head to fall to the side due to weakness filling her body.  
  
  


"You're so sensitive, doll," he taunted, switching his mouth and hands from one breast to the other, giving it the same treatment he gave the first one.  
  
  


"No, you're just...too good for your own—," she paused, letting out another unintentional moan as he sucked even harder on the bud; though, not too hard that it'd harm the woman.  
  
  


He released a chuckle at her inability to finish a sentence and decided he prepped her upper body enough, for her core that thumped against his knee was practically begging for the same treatment he gave up top. In response to her flower's neediness, he trailed wet kisses down (Y/N)'s stomach, noticing the way it hitched with every movement he made downwards, falling in adoration even more with the way her body reacted to him. Despite the mouth and the head she had atop, her body couldn't lie, for it told him everything he needed to know about whether or not she was really attracted to him.  
  
  


So far, her body has told him she's in love.  
  
  


Like the chain on her neck, butterflies filled his own stomach at the thought of (Y/N), someday, coming forward to tell the man, "I love you." Until that day arrived, he'd be waiting patiently with his heart in the palms of his hands, ready to surrender the tender and tattered organ in exchange for (Y/N)'s. Maybe that moment would be tonight? Or tomorrow? Or the day after? He didn't mind, because he'd wait as long as needed for the woman to confess sober. Until then, he'd enjoy the hints she sent his way when both were intoxicated.  
  
  


Rough, inky hands met with the waistband of (Y/N)'s pants, looking to her eyes for any sign of approval or resistance. He wouldn't continue until she gave him some sort of communication that she wasn't having second thoughts, and it didn't take (Y/N) long to notice he stopped his kisses and his soothing touches. Their differing eye colors met for a couple of seconds and (Y/N) nodded, running her fingers through his hair in a lulling manner and encouraging Bokuto that she was undoubtedly ready.  
  
  


He sent one last kiss to her lower stomach and unbuttoned her pants, sliding them down in a teasingly manner. To the side, he couldn't lie that he wasn't watching her butt squeeze itself out of the pants, loving how it snapped back into place like a piece of jello when he finally removed the pants from that specific part of her body. Last time, it was granny panties that covered her core, while this time, she didn't have anything on due to the fact she didn't have any clean underwear by the time he arrived at her apartment.  
  
  


"I didn't have anything clean," she covered her face, smiling from pure embarrassment at her gullible nature in thinking this was _truly_ going to be a regular smoke session.  
  
  


"Nothing wrong with that," he shrugged, enjoying the surprise he was bestowed.  
  
  


He didn't realize how infatuated he was when he watched her core clench and throb from the prolonged foreplay he low-key got lost in, enjoying the way her small movements and her brown skin felt underneath his pale, tattooed hands. She was beautiful in every way possible, down to every little kinky strand growing from her head. He shook his head from the trance her core put him in and pinned her arms above her head once again, despising the fact that she wanted to hide that cute look of embarrassment from him.  
  
  


"Don't hide from me, doll. I wanna see every part of you."  
  
  


She sighed in response, relaxing her arms as a sign that she wouldn't try to hide herself anymore, which pleased Bokuto's ego. Really, she wasn't nearly as shy or embarrassed when she used to participate in casual sex; it took a man of great caliber to make her turn into pudding like she currently did. It wasn't an option anymore to deny the attraction between the pair—it wasn't deniable from the start, if they were being completely honest with themselves.  
  
  


"Good girl. I'll treat you good, okay?" he reassured her once again, despite the fact she knew well he wouldn't do anything to truly harm her.  
  
  


He dipped his head down and spread her legs wider, enjoying the moist sound her core made when positioned differently. It provoked the strong, unbearable hard-on he knew had been leaking precum since he directed every bit of his attention onto (Y/N). The car would be driving around until he signaled for the driver to continue where he really wanted to take (Y/N), but, until then, he could please, tease, and appease the woman all he wanted and however he wanted.  
  
  


The warm metal of Bokuto's tongue piercing made contact with her clit, slowly stroking over the throbbing bundle of nerves teasingly to make sure she felt alright about whatever he planned to do. To his relief, a medium-sized moan left (Y/N)'s lips, encouraging him to stroke the bud much faster than before. His large hands kept her thighs from closing in on his head, gripping onto the skin just enough that it'll leave bruises in the morning. Unbeknownst to Bokuto, (Y/N) loved bites, marks, and bruises to be left over her body when she rose from her sheets in the morning, acting as a reminder of the pleasant activities that took place just a few hours ago.  
  
  


"Ko...!" she shouted, gripping onto his hair with a newfound strength, causing Bokuto to groan in his own state of pleasure.  
  
  


The groan sent vibrations up (Y/N)'s spine, relishing in his voice that secreted even more slick from her flower. The rush of pleasure given to the woman from his tone didn't fly past Bokuto, further inflating his ego that his own voice could affect her so much. He loved that the simple things like his voice could turn her on, and it didn't make him feel as lonely when he could pop a boner by just hearing (Y/N)'s huffs of pleasure.  
  
  


"Your shirt..." she managed to breathe out, looking down at Bokuto's tattooed neck with half-lidded eyes.  
  
  


He paused for a second then looked at himself, so absorbed in prepping the woman that he didn't take off any piece of clothing alongside her. In realization, he shot her a devious smile and lifted his shirt by the collar, lifting his arms to remove the shirt through his arms. (Y/N) watched him peel his shirt off of his arms and caught his hair falling back in place, seemingly drifting over his yellow eyes more than usual; he looked like a predator hiding in the grass blades, ready to pounce on its prey when it's at its most vulnerable.  
  
  


She observed him in every piece of his chiseled, inky glory, unaware of how much she truly loved his tattoos until she saw him 100% shirtless. (Y/N) had already known he was constructed from a mass of muscles due to the tight shirts he loved to suffocate his skin in, but seeing it unveiled and open to light did wonders for her already throbbing, needy core.  
  
  


"Better?" he asked, running his thick thumb over her plump lips, adoring the sultry look in her eyes that told him she was pleased with the result.  
  
  


She nodded, caressing her fingers through his hair once again after he dipped back down, allowing (Y/N) the view of his bulging shoulders as they kept her thighs separate by commanding his hands, seemingly clutching her thighs much rougher than before. His sudden use of more force on her clit forced her head to throw itself back, rubbing the back of her head on soft cushions. Her necklace lifted slightly, now covering a little higher than the base of her neck and making her shiver due to the cold metal meeting another part of her skin.  
  
  


"Ko!" she moaned once again, both her toes and fingers curling in response to him releasing a rougher side of him.  
  
  


That was his signal that she didn't mind him not being gentle, though he still planned to take his time, he didn't have to worry about (Y/N) preferring softer sexual treatment. So, to repay the favor, he used his other hand to insert two fingers inside of her, stretching her soft, damp walls enough so that she wouldn't be uncomfortable with his girth. He was grateful the Hummer happened to be soundproof from their section, or else he would've got an angry and uneasy complaint from his driver by the end of the night from how loud and provocative (Y/N)'s moans were. Simply shrugging at the thought, he continued to stretch her out and hopefully reach her cervix in the process, giving her a taste of the heaven he planned to fly her to once again, but, this time, with both of their sexes joined together in matrimony.  
  
  


"Fuck, K-ko!" she stuttered, arching her back so the rear of her head would be further pressed into the cushions.  
  
  


"Relax, baby. I'll take good care of you," he said, rubbing his thumb on the top of her thigh whilst his other hand continued to stretch and eventually thrust itself in and out of her core.  
  
  


It didn't take but a few more thrusts and licks to her bud to release a string of curses from her mouth, followed by the coating of Bokuto's fingers in sweet cum; he nearly wanted to ruin her like a barbaric king manipulating whatever belonged to him, but he kept those feelings at bay. The soft huffs from her lips didn't aid, however, in soothing his raunchy fantasies, so much to the point his inked hand wrapped around (Y/N)'s neck quicker than he could register.  
  
  


"You like that?" he asked, a dark leer shadowing over his eyes like a beast that's been waiting for its prey to tire itself out before it feasts for their dinner.  
  
  


(Y/N) nodded, unable to speak a word due to the haziness she felt from not only her orgasm, but the weed and the alcohol too, somehow causing her to see stars and white splashes of paint when the sun hasn't set completely for the night. Her mind wondered in a different realm, yet she continued to discern the voice of a man she came to further adore the more they conversed, finding trouble in forming coherent sentences until the grip on her neck tightened, slowly tugging her back into the physical realm of pleasure and erotic sensations.  
  
  


"Answer me, doll," he demanded this time, squeezing the back and the sides of her neck with a threatening atmosphere.  
  
  


Unintentionally, (Y/N)'s core started back up in it's beggary for attention, molding a wide smirk on his face.  
  
  


"Your body says you liked it, let me hear _you_ say it," he commanded one last time, keen on not having to repeat himself to the woman he knew was basically half-conscious.  
  
  


"Yes..." she responded, unable to look in his eyes until he spoke up again.  
  
  


"Yes, _what_?" a challenging air overcame his previous sweet aura, down on his last chain before the savage inside of him was let loose onto the playground that was (Y/N)'s melanated body.  
  
  


He loved the way she squirmed in her seat in uneasiness, letting her juices seep onto the soft cushions as if she could afford to make a mess in a car like this. Bokuto didn't mind, though, for he'd allow her to ruin just about anything he owned if it meant he could simmer in her embarrassment and pleasure again and again until the stars died off, leaving nothing but a passionless, dark universe in place of what once was a dazzling, adventurous expanse.  
  
  


"Yes...daddy..." she finally lifted her head, staring at the sinister look in Bokuto's eye that told her he was far from done with her for the night.  
  
  


"Good girl. Let me show you why I'm no _'boy'_ ," he leaned into her ear and whispered, stroking her side until his hand came at a stop on her hip.  
  
  


He gripped the layer of fat that sat on her backside with enough force to earn a breathless whine, causing her to jerk her hips into his own in desperation for some more friction between the two. Bokuto managed to somehow hold himself back and watch (Y/N)'s face contort into one of dejection, wishing he'd continue his touches like before. However, the raunchy sadist inside of him wouldn't allow her to stay unruined for long, itching to watch her come undone by the work of his hands and his dick.  
  
  


His fingers gave her throat one last squeeze before retreating to her other hip, also squeezing the other cheek so he didn't show one side too much or not enough attention. Another moan released itself from the cages of her mouth, somehow giving her enough confidence to speak up again.  
  
  


"Please...fuck me, daddy," she let out, raising her hand to tilt Bokuto's chin and make out with the handsome druglord once again.  
  
  


Any chain that held his inner demons back had now been broken, relishing in the ruins of what once was a composed woman. Her exterior of superiority had collapsed, and now she was begging to be ruined further by his dick, which expanded Bokuto's ego to heights unimaginable. Knowing she loved and craved for his rougher side convinced him to let go of the bounds that kept the villainous demon in chains instead of in the open, releasing a shadow of him no woman had the confidence to face without the fear of falling for a manipulative sadist.  
  
  


"I'll fuck you good, baby."  
  
  


Bokuto undressed his bottom half, declaring multiple bouts of erotic prophecies he'd let rain down on the woman, promising to deliver every promise that any other man has failed to give her. He asserted his loyalty to her only, that he'd give her the world and the surrounding planets if she so wished. He planned to take her to a different realm once again to relish in each other's arms as they explored the cosmos together in search of their eternal bond and their inevitable crash, leaking white liquids used as the gas to fuel their journey across the galaxy. He'd take her to the heavens if she so pleased, keen on giving her everything she's both held and never held in her entire life.  
  
  


His length unsheathed itself from the confinement of his briefs, earning an involuntary whine from (Y/N) in response to the sinful heaven she knew she was about to experience. Her core continued to throb in anticipation, finally grabbing the eyes of the perpetrator that softly stroked it to acknowledge its pleas have been heard. (Y/N) looked the unbelievably god-like man up and down, knowing well that her body and her eyes told Bokuto everything he needed in order to swell up his ego.  
  
  


"You're a fine man, Ko."  
  
  


"And you're a fine woman, (Y/N)."  
  
  


Bokuto used his fingers to collect the cum from her orgasm and use it as a lube, enjoying the way his woman's face contorted in pleasure from the handling of her much more sensitive core. He positioned himself in front of (Y/N)'s entrance, slowly entering his dick and watching her face intently in search of any expressions of discomfort. However, he was relieved to know that he prepared her so much to the point he could slip right in with almost no resistance. A higher pitched, yet still sultry, groan of pleasure left (Y/N)'s mouth at the almost forgotten sensation of being filled to the brim, causing her head to roll back and her eyes to fly shut. Bokuto groaned in synchronization with her own moan, savoring in the clenches her tight, cushioned walls poured onto his length.  
  
  


"You're so tight, baby. When was the last time another man fucked you like this, huh?"  
  
  


He bucked into her hips, not bothering to start off slow with his thrusts in favor of the sadistic demon he allowed to take over for the duration of their attachment together. He watched her swollen lips fall open and exude a lecherous sound that would make any man's dick hard on the spot, provoking Bokuto to continuously ram himself into her and relish in the unholy, angelic moans she released only for him to hear.  
  
  


"They never did it like you, daddy!"  
  
  


"They'll never do it like me, baby...!"  
  
  


(Y/N) could feel her core clench itself around Bokuto even more, inducing another breathless moan from him that deepened in pitch when he focused on pounding into her even faster, careful not to do anything more than a tap against her cervix. He knew that it took soft touches to the back of her core instead of harsh thrusts to give her a cervix orgasm instead of a regular one. A lot of men didn't know this fact about women, unknowingly harming them for the sake of saying they were 'balls deep' yet their woman had been too afraid to have anything more than vanilla sex since. Bokuto always studied faces, making sure he provided the best experience he could service, especially to (Y/N). He loved the way his heart sped up from examining the way her face contorted from emotion to emotion, especially the erotic expression she currently held that told him she'd orgasm at any second.  
  
  


"Already, baby? That's okay, because I'll fuck you through multiple rounds. So, cum on me. Cum on this dick all you want, cause I'm not stopping any time soon...!"  
  
  


Dirty talk surely did the trick to set (Y/N) over the edge, especially when it wasn't forced and it came out naturally. She yelled his name over and over again, clenching on the soft material of the couch as the pleasure continued building due to Bokuto not allowing her to ride it out. He continued to retract and slam himself back in place, following a rhythm that allowed him to only softly touch her cervix and provoke one of the deepest, cosmic-like orgasms she's ever been delivered. The crash she endured was nothing like before, causing her toes to curl to the point she was sure she'd dislocate a joint sometime soon. Not only white, but now colorful stars danced in her vision and she was certain she'd just seen the multiverse in its entirety, crash-landing on a completely different surface than earth since she still had feelings of defying gravity due to Bokuto's relentlessness in making sure she came more than twice in one night.  
  
  


Her core and her bud ached in sensitivity, provoking a louder moan from (Y/N) since the most sensitive part of her continued to consistently be abused by Bokuto's length. Slaps, groans, moans, and the slick noise of (Y/N)'s soaked flower sounded throughout the oddly smooth ride of the Hummer, increasing the temperature of the room by at least a few degrees.  
  
  


An extra slap of a palm meeting the side of (Y/N)'s butt ricocheted throughout present ears, earning a higher pitched whine from the woman's throat in response. Bokuto seemed to have a brutal glint in his eyes that excited (Y/N) more than frightened her, for she's never found a man that could put up with her forwardness and think they can top her. Yet, Bokuto did just that, and he did a sure good fucking job at it.  
  
  


"Cum on this dick again, baby. I love the way you feel...!"  
  
  


"You're so fucking tight. You like being ruined by me, huh? You like losing your dominance to me, yeah? You ain't gotta tell me, I can tell by this little pussy."  
  
  


Bokuto leaned down to tilt (Y/N)'s head up, dark eyes making contact with her own clouded (E/C) hues.  
  
  


"Tell me how much you love my dick."  
  
  


(Y//N)'s eyes rolled into the back of her head at the extra throb her core induced when Bokuto talked to her dirty, relishing in the confidence he had to talk to a woman of her caliber like that. She loved his burst of ego, and she loved the way his dick made her feel; especially since he hit the back of her core with soft taps instead of harsh pounds, since soft taps were all that were needed to ensue a mind-boggling orgasm over and over again. It was only until she felt fingers wrap around the back and the sides of her neck along with another slap to the side of her butt did she answer him again, trying her best to form coherent sentences.  
  
  


"I love your dick, daddy!"  
  
  


"Say it again," he squeezed her neck a bit tighter, slapping the same spot again in order to get another whine out of her.  
  
  


"I love your dick so much, daddy!" she moaned out, just before experiencing yet another crash, but onto a different planet than the last one.  
  
  


Unwillingly, she ended up ejecting her juices on Bokuto's chest, trailing down to coat his dick in any bit of her orgasm that wasn't wasted on his chest. The man's eyes widened in shock, maintaining his pace but still in a small daze at the type of orgasm he put (Y/N) through. If it was possible, his already inflated had swelled to the verge of popping at the thought of her squirting on his dick over and over again, depleting her energy to the point that she couldn't conjure up a single thought, let alone a coherent sentence. An exhausted smirk embellished his already devilish features, planning to take (Y/N) to another high one last time, for the squelches her core started to make after she squirted pushed him to break the woman into tiny pieces and ruin every part of her rational brain.  
  
  


The last orgasm had different variations of white, but, with this one, (Y/N) could make out colors splashed and painted together to create the randomness that is the multiverse. She almost couldn't take the physical pleasure she'd been experiencing in the physical realm, unknowingly pulling herself back from the continuous and relentlessly slick thrusts she couldn't escape. Bokuto, however, placed on hand on her hip and repeatedly squeezed (Y/N)'s throat, keeping her in place so she couldn't run away from her next inevitable ejaculation.  
  
  


"Don't fucking _run_ from me," he huffed out, gripping her already bruised hips with a force (Y/N)'s implicitly been dying to see since he gave her head in the front seat of his Cadillac.  
  
  


_"I wanna see that shit again."_   
  
  


(Y/N) did her best to follow his orders of staying in place, though she couldn't help the dramatic trembling in her legs in her effort to resist moving away. Strings of curses and phrases far from approving left her mouth in a hurry, clenching around Bokuto's length in response to the quickly approaching orgasm she was about to reach once again, though, it seemed she'd take Bokuto down with her in the same orgasm.  
  
  


Bokuto allowed higher pitched groans to leave his mouth, admiring the way (Y/N) had been completely wrecked from his dick as he simmered in the dominance he somehow attained over the confident, unmoving woman. To him, it was an accomplishment after the multiple fuck ups he made over trying to appear 'cool', but, now that he had the chance to release his demons from their imaginative chains, he was able to fuck (Y/N) silly the way he wanted to.  
  
  


About a dozen thrusts later and Bokuto could feel his end nearing, right alongside (Y/N) as well. It'd be their first time coming undone into each other's arms, concluding their journey in the stars above until the next time they'd construct a rocket ship to fly them to the heavens above. (Y/N) swore she could see clouds the moment her crash slammed down onto her core, rocking her entire body in pure ecstasy to the point she couldn't do anything but let out a soundless moan. Her own squirts had provoked Bokuto to near his own, coming down from the heavens he previously resided in and crashing back onto the wasteland known as earth. However, despite that, they both seethed in each other's embrace, calling out each other's names in loud, breathless boasts of heaves. Liquids flew on top of each other like bullets exchanged during a crossfire, landing in places you wouldn't expect cum to be. There was no need to utter another word other than their names, for they were already so deeply connected they could tell what the other person desired to convey.  
  
  


Bodies coated in sweat had ceased their animalistic activities, slumping down from their previous tense state and into a more relaxed state of consciousness. Bokuto leaned his body down and lifted (Y/N), placing her on top of him so they could both lay down and rest in the other's arms. (Y/N) brought her arms up to embrace his waist while her head rested on his peck, making Bokuto wrap a single arm around her upper back and stroke the clean, square parts of her braids. She was suddenly grateful she didn't decide on the lacefront, for she knew she would've sweated it out and been left with a hairline that didn't match the wig.  
  
  


It didn't take long for Bokuto to gain his energy once again, being able to calm his breathlessness and the fast thumps of his heart due to his endurance he built on everyday. (Y/N), however, was a different story, since her legs continued to shake with no sign of stopping anytime soon.  
  
  


"Hang on, I heard potassium is good for this," Bokuto lifted his chest from the seat and reached to the side, looking through the fridge for the water and the bananas he brought just in case they were needed.  
  
  


He heaved himself from his spot and searched for napkins, shortly coming in contact with a pile of them. His fingers grazed over the pile and he picked them up, bringing them two steps over to the exhausted lady he knew that he fucked silly. He brought his hand down to wipe up the fluids that were secreted onto the couch and (Y/N)'s stomach, watching her core cry out from the abuse it just endured. Unexpectedly, when she lifted herself to get the rest wiped up, a sound expanded through the air that embarrassed the girl more than anything else that occurred in the Hummer.  
  
  


"That...I swear to god it wasn't a fart," (Y/N) explained, earning a bright smile out of Bokuto.  
  
  


"Don't worry, I know!" he continued to wipe the fluids from each other, briefly redressing himself and buckling his belt back into place.  
  
  


He slid his shirt to cover his chest tattoos once again, pulling it back down into place like it was before. He ruffled his still unwaxed hair and made a note to himself to send an angry complaint to the hair gel company that they weren't doing a good job of staying in stock so he could go back to his original hairstyle. His natural hair, though, was growing on him, so he slowly began to cease caring after a while.  
  
  


He looked over to (Y/N)'s body and knelt down beside her, peeling the banana and breaking off medium sized pieces to energize her once again. After all, he still wanted to take her to a certain place, but now he realized it might be a bit more difficult if she couldn't stand straight.  
  
  


He popped the first piece in her mouth and held up the water bottle, making her snatch it immediately to quench the dryness she felt in her throat after moaning entirely too loud to be deemed 'normal'.  
  
  


"What the _fuck_..." she breathed out, adorning a toothy smile that made Bokuto swell up in happiness.  
  
  


"You _nasty_ , _freaky_ hoe," she laughed, taking another offering from Bokuto's outstretched banana.  
  
  


"What?! You were just as freaky!" he retorted.  
  
  


"Was not! You instigated it!"  
  
  


"Well, how could I _not_ when you're sitting there looking like _that_!"  
  
  


"You're _so_ damn lucky I don't work and I skip classes, anyway. I don't even know if I can walk," she let out another laugh, this one much more stressed out, though.  
  
  


"Yes you can. You gotta, anyway, for where I'm taking you."  
  
  


"You're still taking me somewhere?! You _truly_ stress me out. I'm going to die of stress thanks to you."  
  
  


"You'll die of an orgasm before you die of stress."  
  
  


" _Freak_! _Freak_ hoe!" she pointed accusingly.  
  
  


"You liked it!!" he pointed back.  
  
  


...  
  
  


" _And_...we're here!"  
  
  


Bokuto uncovered (Y/N)'s eyes after guiding her up several flights of stairs, for she surprisingly gained her strength back temporarily after she ate the banana and drank some water. At the moment, she felt the winds of Miami's late night assault her body whilst her eyes discerned the distant city lights of downtown, taking in the rest of their settings with a curious eye. The pair stood atop an abandoned hotel, somewhere on a tall hill that looked down on the distant city lights she felt was just a reach of her hand away. If you looked at the sky, the city lights were far enough that you could make out tiny stars and even a constellation or two if you looked close enough. The rooftop was still nicely intact with railings all around so nobody could fall to their deaths, even if they wanted to. Palm trees surrounded the hotel to the point you could hardly tell it was there in the first place if you weren't already standing on the roof, making it a perfect escapade spot for desperadoes that wanted a moment of silence from the sometimes unbearable city. It provided a view of both city lights and natural star sightings, something that was rare if you studied a bit on light pollution. You had the beauty of the city without the bustle, and you had the starry night sky without the insufferable insects of the countryside.  
  
  


To put it simply: it was beautiful.  
  
  


Bokuto, in the distance, held up two pairs of rollerskates, adorning a cheesy smile that (Y/N) couldn't believe was real after the unholy acts they just committed a little less than half an hour ago. However, (Y/N) couldn't resist that sweet look Bokuto always reserved for her, quickly being pulled into his bubble without thinking.  
  
  


"I figured you could teach me how to skate better! The rollerskating rink was nice, but I was too distracted when you started twerking that I kinda let you just pull me along. So...wanna skate?" he asked, holding out a pair of skates that seemed to match (Y/N)'s exact shoe size.  
  
  


A cheesy smile made its way onto her own face as she accepted his offer, taking the ruby red skates from his hold and admiring them in the bright moonlight. The moon gleamed down on the pair in pure joy, ecstatic to see that their favorite soap opera has moved forward in the development of their fated relationship. Her unmoving eyes never left the pair's drifting bodies on the rooftop, admiring their chemistry and the way they naturally came together without having to force it. She watched the way (Y/N) moved her feet in a specific way, calling Bokuto to do the same so he could control his balance and propel himself forward, finding much more joy in the simple act of skating than he thought he would. Maybe it was because his mind automatically associated skating with the woman he adored most due to their first meeting? He didn't give a damn about the reason, anyway, because both (Y/N) and the act of skating propelled a feeling of serenity and balance in his life.  
  
  


The moon became smitten with watching her night-children fall in love.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"SAGGIN' OUT THE**   
**MALLS, WE DO THE MOST,**   
**OH. HAD A RATCHET IN**   
**MY COAT, GOT A GIRL DOIN'**   
**COKE. WE DRINK UP AND WE**   
**SMOKE, BUT SHE ALWAYS**   
**DO THE MOST."**

**— FUTURE. | DRANKIN N SMOKIN**

  
  
  
  
  
  
______________________________  
  
  
  
  
  


**_CHAPTER INSPO:_ **   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death also means something along the lines of orgasm or cumming, lol learned this in drama class.  
> EXTRA NOTE: (Y/N)'s scene when she was rushing Bokuto for the blunt makes me think of that tiktok "pull that dick out...pull that fuckin dick out I'm not playin with you" LMFAOOOOO


	7. ON THE RUN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORD COUNT: 9.4K  
> TW: Racism, police (FUCK 12 BITCH).

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"COP LIGHTS, FLASHLIGHTS,**   
**SPOTLIGHTS, STROBE LIGHTS,**   
**STREET LIGHTS. ALL OF THE**   
**LIGHTS. FAST LIFE, DRUG LIFE,**   
**THUG LIFE, ROCK LIFE EVERY**   
**NIGHT. ALL OF THE LIGHTS."**

**— KANYE WEST. | ALL OF THE LIGHTS**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"(Y/N), I don't think this is a good idea..."  
  
  


"Yes the fuck it is. C'mon, babyboy, let's _ride_!!"  
  
  


(Y/N) and Bokuto came across multiple stolen shopping carts on their departure from the abandoned hotel. Due to, once again, being high out of her goddamn mind, (Y/N) decided it would be a great idea to race down the hill in the rusty shopping carts, much to Bokuto's dismay. If she were being honest, she truly didn't want the night to end, so she stalled for as long as she could by teaching Bokuto new skating moves that he'll probably never use; at least he knows how to do _the jerk_ on rollerskates, though. Now that she found another thing to stall their inevitable departure, she welcomed the opportunity with open arms.  
  
  


(Y/N) hopped in her own shopping cart and shifted her body forward, lining the cart up with Bokuto's.  
  
  


"On 3, we push ourselves forward!"  
  
  


"On 3, we're going to fall to our deaths!"  
  
  


"YOLO, Ko! YOLO!!"  
  
  


"1...2... _3_! See you on the other side, baby!" (Y/N) ignored Bokuto's paranoia and propelled herself forward, causing the shopping cart to roll down the hill.  
  
  


Originally, the pace was smooth, but then the snowball effect had taken place and (Y/N) could feel the chill air rush against her cheeks while she hugged her knees. A shriek of excitement left her mouth the more the cart had picked up speed, for it reminded her of days when she'd slide down her auntie's steps in a laundry basket when no one stayed to watch her, except this experience happened to be a bit more extreme.  
  
  


(Y/N) glimpsed behind her and noticed Bokuto was shortly catching speed, almost hitting the back of her cart until she propelled herself forward once again to up the tempo. She was almost jealous that the man was able to catch up so quickly due to his weight of pure muscles aiding the cart's roll downhill. However, she caught enough of a head start that when a certain tree she marked as the finish line came into view, it was obvious she'd be the one to win this round; if they were sober and Bokuto started at the same time as (Y/N), it'd be a different story.  
  
  


(Y/N) used her upper body strength to whip the cart to the side and come to a stop after she passed the tree, huffing breaths of excitement that told Bokuto she got her adrenaline up. Her heart was pounding in her chest when her cart flipped over, forcing (Y/N) out and onto the flat dirt. Instead of whining, though, she released bouts of heavy laughter from her no-so-cool victory stance.  
  
  


"That was fun! Let's do it _again_!" she made her voice deeper on the 'again'.  
  
  


"No, you clearly need some sleep. You look awful."  
  
  


(Y/N) pouted, clearly not in a right state of mind due to not only the weed, but the rounds of Chardonnay she downed before Bokuto took her to the abandoned hotel; she did it just in case he turned out to be a serial killer and she'd die painlessly. Usually, she never left her gun at home, but every time she seems to be out with Bokuto, her defense tool was nowhere in sight. Eventually, she'd have to start bringing it, but because of who Bokuto happened to be, she was sure he probably had a ratchet in his coat at all times.  
  
  


"I wanna spend more time with you, though."  
  
  


Bokuto allowed his face to burst into hot flames, reaching from his cheeks all the way down to his designed neck in embarrassment. Unsurprisingly, chaotic butterflies filled his stomach at the thought of (Y/N) taking interest in him for more than just sex. He should've already known she wanted more than sex out of him, due to their late night conversations and the limo ride, but his doubt and his past demons were hellbent on making him think he didn't deserve an innocent love. After all the atrocities he's committed, he really did believe he had no right to ask for something so pure and virtuous.  
  
  


Despite that, (Y/N) acted as a necromancer and revived the butterflies that seemingly died off centuries ago, gifting him the almost forgotten feeling of undefiled passion.  
  
  


"Then, come over my place," he suggested, placing his hands on (Y/N)'s shoulders to keep her steady after the fall she just experienced.  
  
  


"Only if you have a bonnet lying around somewhere."  
  
  


"I have silk sheets, is that fine?" he asked, stroking one of the braids atop her head.  
  
  


He knew a decent amount of information on how kinky hair like (Y/N)'s operated, plus he had unintentionally switched out his other sheets for silk without meaning to, but it worked out in the end so (Y/N) could actually spend the night at his place.  
  
  


"Alright, after party at Ko's!!"  
  
  


"We're going to sleep!!"  
  
  


...  
  
  


Harsh rays of unforgiving sunlight attacked both (Y/N) and Bokuto's eyelids, forcing a synchronized groan out of the pair. The bedroom they were stationed in had been decorated in a modern B&W theme; the covers they relaxed under were the darkest shade of black (Y/N)'s ever seen on a bed. (Y/N)'s braids were sprawled out on the silk sheets beneath her, spreading behind her back while she laid on her side, feeling the distinct sensation of firm back muscles on her chest. It didn't require full consciousness for the woman to tell she was spooning a man—an athletic man, at that. Her crusty eyes slowly opened, careful not to consume too much sunlight in fear that her already pounding headache would worsen. The first thing her eyes discerned was the head of gray hair belonging to the man she allowed to fuck her silly last night; the memory was strong and prominent in her mind, inducing a flame in her chest and her inner thighs.  
  
  


Another groan was heard from Bokuto as he shuffled in his spot, opening his lips to speak.  
  
  


" _Is that a heating pad..._?" he dragged out his words in a raspy voice, curious on where the hot feeling in his lower back came from.  
  
  


(Y/N) straightened her lips in embarrassment, moving her core away from his back since she had no idea he could feel the heat sprout from that spot.  
  
  


" _Nooo, put it back..._ " he drawled out again, reaching his bare arm behind his back to pull (Y/N)'s body back onto his own.  
  
  


She practically melted in his touch, not minding the slight tremble in her thighs when they were pressed against Bokuto's backside. The sensation provoked a hum of approval from him and caused her to fold her arm over his chest once again. She liked being the bigger spoon, for it gave her a magnificent view of his well developed back muscles, especially since he was the type of man to shamelessly sleep shirtless. A large TV hung on the wall was streaming songs from a playlist (Y/N) and Bokuto decided on to put them to sleep. The pleasant chime of _Bound 2_ by Kanye West flooded their ears, putting (Y/N) at ease despite the embarrassment her core continued to be. A light smile tugged on (Y/N)'s face after realizing Bokuto was into her music taste as well, remembering the way he let the names of her favorite artists roll off his tongue as if he read her mind.  
  
  


A low grumble cut through the calm atmosphere like a searing knife, pulling the pair into consciousness at the remembrance that they didn't bother to eat last night.  
  
  


"I'm hungry," (Y/N) groaned, pulling her front side away from Bokuto's inked back in an attempt to remove herself from the trance his warm body put her in.  
  
  


Hastily, he gripped onto her bruised hip and tugged her back.  
  
  


"A few more minutes..."  
  
  


"We didn't even eat last night. I'm going to order something," she retorted, sensing the grasp on her hip tighten the more she tried to move.  
  
  


His fingers dug directly where his hands had bruised her when she squirted on his chest, forcing the memory to the forefront of (Y/N)'s brain. Her core involuntarily heated up due to its quick muscle memory of his large, powerful hands handling her body. Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Bokuto held a lazy smirk on his face, conscious enough to know what part of her continued to heat up just from his touch. He was honored, really, to experience a woman falling victim to everything he did to her physique, relishing in the unfamiliar feeling of amore.  
  
  


"Stay with me..." he whined, flipping his body over so his drowsy smile can meet with (Y/N)'s own lazy expression.  
  
  


His branded arms wrapped around (Y/N)'s torso, making sure she couldn't escape from the warmth he radiated like an old style furnace that could heat up an entire house. After realizing his strength was unmatched to hers, she ceased her resistance and melted into his chest, still unable to ignore the grumble erupting from her deprived stomach. Bokuto was a sadistic fuck that'd rather smash his head between his lover's breasts than feed her, which is the conclusion (Y/N) drew 5 seconds ago.  
  
  


"My stomach is caving in on me."  
  
  


"Have something delivered," he argued.  
  
  


" _I'm_ broke."  
  
  


"And _I'm_ not. Use my card," he reached his arm over (Y/N)'s body for the phone he left on her side of the bed.  
  
  


Once retracted, he separated their bodies just a little so (Y/N) could interact with his screen, scrolling through his apps for a certain delivery service.  
  
  


"Can we get Waffle House?"  
  
  


"Whatever you want."  
  
  


...  
  
  


"Hey, Ko. I just realized something..."  
  
  


Bokuto rose his head from the stack of pancakes he feasted on, dragging his eyes across the dinner table to land them on (Y/N)'s figure. His previously nonchalant state was nowhere to be found when anxiousness flooded his senses at her words. The man almost didn't want to respond to her declaration in fear that she realized she didn't want to be with him, let alone be in his condo. Bokuto grew accustomed to women later realizing they didn't take an actual interest in him, so he had a vague idea of what conclusion (Y/N) had come to.  
  
  


"It's okay, I understand. Just...give it a second thought, please?" he asked, solemnly looking down at his food.  
  
  


(Y/N) scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, opening and closing her mouth to find a response to Bokuto's strange reply.  
  
  


"Huh? But we're sober right now? We've been sober for an hour."  
  
  


Bokuto choked on the water he attempted to sip on to soothe the aching in his throat, briefly registering that he jumped to conclusions entirely too quickly.  
  
  


"Wait, what?"  
  
  


"I just realized this is our first time spending time together during the daytime...? Plus, we're sober...?" she cleared up his confusion, trying to understand what _'give it a second thought'_ meant; did the man not want to spend time with her sober?  
  
  


"Fuck! I thought you were leaving me!" Bokuto ran over to (Y/N)'s side of the dinner table and embraced her tightly, rocking her back and forth to the point she almost wanted to throw up.  
  
  


" _Ugh...Ko_ , do you _not_ have a hangover?"  
  
  


(Y/N) was already weakened due to their night of fun yesterday before spending 2 hours skating and doing the jerk with Bokuto. Thanks to the added stress on her legs, she could hardly function the moment she woke up, depending on Bokuto's strength to carry her around the house and aid in her shower. Factoring in the awful hangover from downing several glasses of alcohol, she wasn't feeling too good nor was she all there.  
  
  


"Sorry! I thought you realized you didn't like me..." he let go of (Y/N) and scratched his head awkwardly, staring at the woozy state (Y/N) had been trapped in.  
  
  


"No, no...I like you. I may not be able to stand you, but I like you," the woman attempted to control her aching head by rubbing circles on the forehead, though she knew that wouldn't do anything.  
  
  


(Y/N) failed to realize that the words she spouted earned a look of astonishment and silence from Bokuto. Though their 'relationship' was going on a week long now, neither have openly admitted they liked the other person. Bokuto knew (Y/N) as a bold person who usually wouldn't hide her interests or her feelings, but it's been difficult to get a good reading on her mental when she seemingly forged a giant wall of indestructible bullets to keep him out. She was bold, but she never specified what she felt for him, and he planned to make his feelings known first before she even had the chance. However, at this moment, (Y/N) didn't give a damn about what she said, she just wanted a Gatorade to help her hangover.  
  
  


"You like me?"  
  
  


"It...wasn't obvious?" (Y/N) awkwardly scratched the back of her head, wondering how he thought she didn't like him after the intimate conversations they held.  
  
  


"You call me a freak hoe at every chance you get!"  
  
  


"That's because you _are_ a freak hoe! _Nasty ass_!"  
  
  


"You were just as freaky!"  
  
  


" _Ugh, my head_...do you have any Gatorade?" (Y/N) slung her head back on the dinner table, frightening Bokuto as he rushed to find a bottle of Gatorade in his fridge.  
  
  


To his luck, he found an unopened bottle of Gatorade he was planning to drink the next time he entered a gym but sacrificed for (Y/N)'s sake. It wasn't his intention to worsen her headache, he just allowed his happiness and his real persona to make way past his facade. At this point, even though it's only been about a week, it was eventful enough to feel like a month, especially with the type of affection he received from (Y/N). He was definitely the sort of person to fall for a woman in a short time span, but he didn't recognize (Y/N) as a woman that'd do the same, so he bombarded her with conversations and weed in hopes of making her feel the same. You wouldn't believe the pure amount of relief that flooded his body when she admitted her inner thoughts of him shamelessly; it made him mentally smack himself for even thinking she was trying to hide herself from him.  
  
  


"Here, baby. Sorry about making it worse—"  
  
  


"I just had a fucking _revelation_."  
  
  


"That's never good," Bokuto grimaced playfully, poking at (Y/N)'s willingness to do reckless activities; he wouldn't admit how much he actually loved racing down the hill in shopping carts, for he didn't want to appear as 'weird', but he always loved to watch (Y/N)'s weirdness replace her constant sultry or exhausted aura.  
  
  


It made him feel better about his own playfulness that he continued to be vigilant about unveiling.  
  
  


"Let's ride around the rich white neighborhoods on my bike," she grinned, accepting the Gatorade just as her entire atmosphere changed.  
  
  


"Your motorcycle? The bright red one?"  
  
  


"Yup! She's a beauty, ain't she? Anyway, we'll be sober for the entire day today, so don't even think of bringing a blunt...because I'ma smoke it," (Y/N) chuckled, pointing at Bokuto accusingly.  
  
  


"Doesn't your head hurt, though? You can just rest here and I'll take you home when you want."  
  
  


"Give me an ibuprofen and some ginger ale and I'll be fine," she replied and Bokuto almost laughed because that was the same combination High John 'prescribed' him whenever he caught an illness.  
  
  


"You sure?"  
  
  


"Yes, Ko. Have you ever rode on a motorcycle?" she asked with a teasing smirk.  
  
  


"Actually...no, I haven't, now that I think about it," Bokuto lost himself in his train of memories, attempting to recall a time he ever sat on a motorcycle.  
  
  


"Even better! C'mon, pretty boy, let's _ride_!"  
  
  


In no time at all, Bokuto had pulled up to (Y/N)'s apartment complex he eventually came to learn very well. He didn't mean to be creepy, he just needed to know the type of people she was surrounded with. She could unquestionably defend herself, and the last thing he wanted to do was underestimate her, but he couldn't help his possessive and protective traits that often made him seem like a hypocrite. (Y/N)'s hands reaching for the car door handle snapped him out of his trance as he unbuckled his own seat belt, rushing so he could help the woman limp to her own apartment.  
  
  


"I'm fine! I swear! Look, I'm walking normally!" (Y/N) protested against Bokuto's embarrassing gesture of kindness, dreading the moment her neighbors would ask her how well she got dicked down and tell her she possessed a magical pussy since she seemingly had him wrapped around her finger.  
  
  


"Can you even ride a motorcycle in this state?" he asked, softly taking (Y/N)'s key and inserting it into the lock.  
  
  


"That's the thing: nothing is wrong with me!" she agonizingly tried to make her point again, efforts going futile due to Bokuto's serotonin levels boosting by holding her body close.  
  
  


He ignored her complaints and pushed her door open, scouting the entire apartment while she led him through, eyes never failing to miss even the smallest things. Her favorite scent clearly seemed to be cocoa butter and fresh linen sheets judging by the scented candles and the lotions she had sprawled across her bedroom. (Y/N) guided him to take a seat in the old beanbag she should've thrown away two years ago, but he tripped her and pulled her in his lap so she couldn't walk away. Bokuto continued to observe the room with attentive eyes while (Y/N) rioted in his inked arms.  
  
  


"Let go of me, I need to find the extra helmet!"  
  
  


"Isn't staying on top of me better, though?" he smiled so brightly (Y/N) had to scoff and look away.  
  
  


"No!"  
  
  


"Words hurt, (Y/N)!"  
  
  


She, distressingly, rubbed circles into her forehead with her fingers yet again.  
  
  


"I—I'm...stressed. You stress me out."  
  
  


"I can always relieve that," he replied, sneaking his head to lay in the crevice of her neck.  
  
  


"The last time you did, you disabled me," she briefly reminded him of the night before and how he literally had to aid in her shower.  
  
  


"Okay, _okay_...I can go slower next time?"  
  
  


"I just want to be released from these chains!!"  
  
  


...  
  
  


Humid air and lush palm trees whisked past (Y/N) and Bokuto's physique, enjoying the sober afternoon atmosphere that Miami never failed to issue. The specific area they rode out to was filled to the brim with green scenery; you couldn't look two feet away without seeing some sort of tropical plant planted in the vibrant grass. (Y/N) cherished that they were able to converse without weed aiding their talks, meanwhile Bokuto genuinely couldn't recall the last time he'd been sober when hanging out with a woman because they all preferred him when he was high. They routinely failed to handle him when he was sober, which prompted the crashing downfall of his past expeditions. (Y/N), however, seemed to love that side of him more than he loved himself, so he made it a mission to love her when she was sober as well.  
  
  


It didn't take much effort to love (Y/N)'s sober side, thus he found it easy to connect with her laidback yet reckless tendencies. And she displayed signs of enjoying his playful side, example being she constantly pulled him closer to her back whilst riding on the motorcycle. Bokuto didn't have to worry about this particular interest leaving him in broken pieces, so his heart felt full for the very first time sober.  
  
  


(Y/N), to put it simply, was an audacious driver, racing random Toyota Camry's on the highway and undergoing _very_ sharp turns. Bokuto swore he could feel his soul leaving his body when she sped up the vehicle to pass a light that was on the verge of turning red. Really, in South Florida, you should be accustomed to reckless driving like hers, but her driving was a stark contrast from the persona she lets everybody _think_ is her. She even cackled loudly at the harsh beating of Bokuto's frightened yet excited heart, urging her to execute more ideas she normally wouldn't if she had another passenger on her back.  
  
  


"Pretty cool, huh?!" she shouted over the loud whips of air, looking to the side for a split second to shift lanes.  
  
  


"Yeah! How long have you had this?!"  
  
  


"Over seven years! It gets through small places real easily! Lemme show you!!" (Y/N) shouted as soon as she spotted an alleyway, taking a sharp turn that nearly resulted in a drift; it did, however, result in angry honks from the cars behind her.  
  
  


She couldn't care or less about their road rage, for she was too busy navigating the thin alleyways that'd barely allow a group of four people standing side by side to stroll through. If his heart beat could speed up any faster, it sure did for Bokuto, because he was too concerned in preventing his and the driver's deaths. (Y/N) noticed his change in emotions and reassured him by nodding, quickly redirecting her attention to drift and turn through the small spaces between the rotting brick walls. She slowed her speed only a little to put him at ease and, surprisingly, it did just that.  
  
  


"Gotta be careful to not run over the homeless!" (Y/N) shouted, skillfully dodging pedestrians, trash, and random bricks or construction tools.  
  
  


"There's a big ass hump coming up!" Bokuto shouted, looking past (Y/N)'s shoulder to see a makeshift pile of bricks that he knew she couldn't get past.  
  
  


He definitely worried for their safety now, since it seemed (Y/N) wasn't planning to slow down any time soon. Never has he seen somebody jump a pile of bricks that high, and it blocked the entire alleyway, so the only way for them to continue would be to either jump the pile or to slow down and turn around. (Y/N), however, never backed down from a challenge that involved racing or driving in general, so she planned to overcome the obstacle without slowing her speed one bit.  
  
  


"Bet! Let me show you some tricks, pretty boy!" (Y/N) held a smirk on her face that meant no type of good for Bokuto's nerves.  
  
  


All he could do was simply hold onto (Y/N)'s waist tighter, prepping his body for the inevitable crash they were about to experience. Though, the woman he clenched onto wouldn't allow that to happen, especially since she had so much experience in navigating these same walls, so she upped the speed on her motorcycle and ducked her upper body. She was keen on not fucking up this particular trick because her pride didn't want to fall victim to a disappointed glare from Bokuto. He actually managed to provoke her heart to compete in a street race against every high-end racing vehicle in the country, increasing her tempo miles over what she was accustomed to. The organ, surprisingly, won first place against every other competitor, earning her the first golden trophy she's ever been handed. Once she turned it over to look at the title of the trophy, in bold letters, it stated, **"1ST PLACE WINNER OF FALLING IN LOVE."**  
  
  


She unwillingly fell completely, sensing the crushing winds of life rushing past her as if they were late for work. Her body felt like it defied gravity, yet it continued to plummet into the oblivion of the unknown. She had no clue on what her trophy of love would transpire for the pair, nor did she know if she prepped her mental enough for this moment. All she could discern was the thrill that ran through her veins when she dedicated every bit of her upper body strength to lift the front of the motorcycle upwards.  
  
  


Like she practiced for this very moment, the motorcycle jerked upwards while she maneuvered her body a certain way. Before both Bokuto and (Y/N) realized it, their differing hues caught eye of the distanced ground below them, shortly realizing the entire motorcycle had jumped in the air and soared over the couple-of-feet-tall pile of bricks. The wheels didn't even closely touch the heap, causing Bokuto's adrenaline _and_ respect to rise at the display of skill (Y/N) flaunted.  
  
  


His mind came to a sudden revelation, inducing an air of understanding in the few seconds they seemed to defy gravity. Unintentionally, he drifted back to a time he had long forgotten—a time that he tried his absolute damned hardest to push away and never come to terms with again. To his dismay, he realized he could no longer run from the images of his past, skimming through his head like a film that aimed to remind him of a time he didn't need to take drugs to feel high.  
  
  


The image of distanced and polished hardwood flooring, adorned in various white lines, flooded his eyes and his ears along with the muffled cheers of an audience, anticipating the final point to conclude their game. He happened to be the prosecutor to deliver that final point, relishing in the wave of emotions and the overload of his five senses when he gazed to the other side of the court. His eyes could perceive the stunned and unmoving eyes of the opposing team, his ears could discern the loud cheers of his side of the bleachers, his nose could detect the entrancing aroma of sweat radiating off each player in the building, his tongue could taste the dryness of his mouth due to the measures he took to make sure his team could make it to this point, and his body...his body could sense the forgotten feeling of defying gravity, both physically and mentally. He soared across the court in search of the entity that'd make its appearance and aid in his success over the opposing team. The ball shortly came into view, and like it was second nature, his drawn back hand reached up to pummel the sphere in question, crashing so hard onto the other side of the court that the sound ricocheted throughout the entire gymnasium. It was at that moment, Bokuto felt higher than he's ever been. Not an ounce of a drug, excluding pure serotonin and adrenaline, rippled through his body when he heard the cheers of the crowd burst into sounds no longer conceivable.  
  
  


Long before Bokuto discovered drugs, he already knew what it felt like to be higher than anyone else in the room. That sensation soon became forgotten in the down spiral that was his teenage years, evoking his troubled demons to convince him the only way to feel like how he used to feel was through illegal means. The only way he could ever get as high as he previously reached was by surrendering his life to the chains of white lines; those same white lines acted as a guide for the plane to take off into the skies, drifting through clouds of eternal disappointment. Even through those inevitable looks of disgrace, he continued to soar when those white lines entered his nostrils and aided in his take off into the powdered skies, in search of a treasure he refused to cease looking for.  
  
  


What was he looking for at this point in his unsanctioned life?  
  
  


When the motorcycle finally descended back onto the ground like an angel evacuating heaven to look upon their child, (Y/N) skirted the motorcycle to a stop by rotating it at a 90 degree angle. More quickly than she anticipated, she removed her helmet to reveal her slicked parts and the perfect braids that framed her face angelically. To Bokuto, the bright smile on her face and the tsunami of thrill that flooded her body aided in his conclusion to the question he's been asking himself ever since he sniffed his first line of white powder. Bokuto, just as quickly, removed his own helmet to allow his strands of hair to frame his picture perfect face like a portrait. Unexpectedly, (Y/N) swiftly seized his cheeks in the palms of her hands and tugged his face to meet her own, locking their lips in a kiss filled to the brim with thrill, daringness, and, most importantly: love. Bokuto melted into the touch like vanilla pudding, luxuriating in the softness her plump lips welcomed him in. He could never get tired of their physical parts connecting, sparking a type of electricity that'd kill and arouse the victims it ambushed at the same time. He set his heart on conveying soundless words that'd paint a thousand pictures in (Y/N)'s closed eyes of not only what he felt for her, but images of a future with them hand-in-hand, too. It didn't matter to him what type of love they adapted; whether it was a Romeo and Juliet type of love or a Bonnie and Clyde type of love, he'd still relish in it for as long as his physical body stayed in this particular realm. He practically drowned her with the realness of his affection and his admiration, and she could feel it without question.  
  
  


For the first time since high school, he found an answer to his question. What was he looking for at this point in his unsanctioned life?  
  
  


The pair separated for air while (Y/N) adorned a pretty smile that was as sweet as pound cake. They looked into each other's eyes and Bokuto could say that he was embarrassed he was the only person that held the ability to produce a visible blush on his face, cursing his skin for making it obvious on how much of a flustered mess (Y/N) consistently pushed him to be.  
  
  


_This_ , however... _this_ was the treasure he's been searching for.  
  
  


...  
  
  


Blank skies crammed with darkness and the light of a single star cloaked the coasts of Florida once more, inducing an atmosphere of either relaxation or chaos. For the pair that currently cruised on a bloody red bike, they could proudly determine they felt both the relaxation and the chaos nighttime brought onto Miami. They sailed across the Rickenbacker Causeway and admired the way the waning moon reflected off of the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. No matter how long they've resided in Miami, the sight would never become old or boring to either of them.  
  
  


All of the lights from different sources reflected off the waters like a rippling mirror, such as diverse neon lights built into the bridge, blinding strobes from the distant city, older street lights that illuminated their dark path across the sea, and flashing blue and red lights trailing right behind the speeding motorcycle as they swiftly maneuvered through the unsuspecting cars.  
  
  


"You think we can outrun them?!" (Y/N) asked, refusing to take 'no' as an answer.  
  
  


Bokuto, however, wouldn't answer with 'no' in the first place after seeing the tricks she was capable of throughout the entire day. Before they were caught up in a police chase, they stopped by a couple of gas stations and had the great idea of racing down this particular bridge to see if they could find another car to race them as well. To their luck, a couple of cars had joined them in a race down the entire bridge; the winner of the race would get $500 from each competitor. (Y/N) had little to no trouble in reigning victorious over the loser Floridians, collecting her money like a pimp that finally got the money they were promised. Another car wanted a rematch, and the pair easily gave them what they wanted, but not with the result they desired.  
  
  


Bokuto and (Y/N) were close to finishing the race in first place once again until multiple police cars tailed their behind, announcing for them to stop the car and basically surrender their lives to prison time. Bokuto and (Y/N) scoffed in reply, only finding more reason to speed up and avoid lawful confrontation. Bokuto knew he had much more to lose than (Y/N) because of who he is, so he used his uncanny night vision to give her pointers on what to do and where to go.  
  
  


Colorful lights flashed through their perspectives as they evacuated the bridge, now racing through the streets of downtown Miami in a high-speed police chase. (Y/N) was grateful for Bokuto's tips and pointers on how to escape their sticky situation, but thrill and panic remained in her bloodstream the longer they had to avoid the flashing lights entailing certain death.  
  
  


The police tried to reassure the pair that they would take them in peacefully if they didn't resist arrest, but (Y/N) didn't believe a word of what they said. She couldn't believe nor put her trust in a force that's been working against her not only since her druglord days, but since she's been born into this world as well. It didn't take anything more than the harsh thumps of (Y/N)'s heart to tell Bokuto how she felt about police, and he understood that the only options available for her were to either escape, or to die by a bullet propelling through her back. In response, he squeezed his thighs around her body that sat in front of him, placing his hands on her shoulder to soothe the anxiety reigning her body like a ruthless king that only sought to punish its citizens.  
  
  


Helicopters reverberated throughout the city and brought an unpleasant memory back into her head she aspired to shove away from her everyday thoughts. However, Bokuto's thighs and his hands smoothing out the tension in her body ushered her back into reality, sporting a resolute and unwavering glare that even Bokuto felt without having to look at her. He flaunted his own confident smirk, for he's been in a situation similar to this and he knew just what to do. (Y/N) had the benefit of mentally possessing an intricate map of Miami and all of its alleyways, sewers, abandoned streets, and more, along with her skillful maneuvering. Bokuto had the benefit of possessing eyes like a breed between an owl and a computer, failing to miss the smallest details, like a centimetre long crack in the road, and analyzing intricate situations as if it were as easy as 2 + 2. Paired together, (Y/N) and Bokuto were a powerhouse duo that could very well overrule and rain calamity down on Miami and the rest of the nation, but they were far more concerned in preventing their certain deaths as minorities than conjuring scenarios of Bonnie and Clyde fantasies.  
  
  


Incalculable amounts of lights in every color engulfed (Y/N)'s vision, provoking a sense of serenity in being held in the arms of the one she admitted she would go on the run with. It was almost funny, really, the way that last night they declared they'd willingly leave everything behind to experience embracement in each other's arms, and, today, they're being put to the test of their promises. Bokuto said it once and he'll say it again that he doesn't make empty promises, so it was no question that he went along with (Y/N)'s refusal to surrender their lives to people that never protected their races in the first place.  
  
  


It wasn't until a spotlight poured down on them like the rain in Orlando that Bokuto barked another command, giving her shoulders another squeeze before returning his arms to rest in the place on her waist.  
  
  


"There's a hill up ahead that if you speed over, the cars'll lose sight of you for a few seconds!! After that, make a turn into one of the alleyways!! Find something to cover our heads!!"  
  
  


(Y/N) nodded, upping the tempo of the motorcycle to a horsepower she knew police cars couldn't reach, for she had her bike _'fixed'_ by a certain young mechanic only a couple of years ago in Cuba. She silently thanked the mechanic in her head and bolted over the hill in the road, forcing it to go at the fastest speed it could reach. Once over the hill, (Y/N) searched her well-endowed memory for alleyways she could turn into. The remembrance of a drive-by she was once involved in materialized to the forefront of her head and she took a sharp turn to the left, skirting so hard that the pair could feel their brains jerking in their skulls. They had no choice but to endure the headache, though, for they were too busy trying to lose the spotlight that shined above their heads as a sore reminder of the tough opponent they needed to defeat.  
  
  


To them, they had a lot more to lose than the police that chased after them, so, as an outlaw and former outlaw, they strove to get by this situation through any means possible, even if it meant exposing a certain side of themselves they wanted to keep under wraps.  
  
  


(Y/N) glimpsed behind her to watch the cop cars charge past the alleyway, completely missing the pair who sped down the oddly long space. (Y/N) removed one hand from the bike and reached into her pocket, pulling out an object she didn't plan on making known anytime soon. Bokuto looked down at the device she held in shock, not expecting to see a Glock 17 in her delicate hands. He didn't need a speech to understand the grave situation they were caught in, nor did he need an explanation for what (Y/N) wanted him to do, so he took the Glock out of her hands and wrapped his free arm around her waist so he wouldn't fly off the motorcycle.  
  
  


Normally, (Y/N) wouldn't trust a soul to have the same shooting accuracy she did, for she never missed a single bullet in her entire life. However, after a bit of research on Nightcrawler and a few confessions from Nine, she came to realize that he was an amazing gunslinger that nearly held the same accuracy she did. So, in response, she handed him the gun she usually carries when out and about in Miami.  
  
  


The arm Bokuto slung around (Y/N)'s waist tightened as he looked up into the strong spotlight, almost blinding himself if he didn't squint. He could hardly see what type of helicopter it was, for if he could see, he'd know just where to hit it to send it plummeting into the streets of downtown. Nevertheless, he didn't want to kill multiple citizens in front of (Y/N), so he put his blood-thirst aside to focus on a specific target. Bokuto raised his arm in the air and hugged his finger around the trigger, aiming for the exact middle of the spotlight that shined upon the guilty. He closed a single eye and allowed his other one to do the job. For his shots, it took no longer than 3 seconds to load, aim, and shoot, and one of those options was already completed, so in the span of two seconds, he accurately aligned the tip of the gun to the middle of the spotlight. A loud gunshot echoed throughout their specific section of the city while (Y/N) and Bokuto were placed in a blinding darkness once again.  
  
  


(Y/N) jerked the motorcycle to take a sudden turn as soon as the spotlight was destroyed, making sure the pilot's eyes didn't have time to adjust to the sudden wave of murkiness to pinpoint their location. In that moment of myopia, (Y/N) maneuvered the car to go in a different direction, escaping the overbearingness of that tedious helicopter they couldn't seem to shake off until now. The motorcycle now drove in the opposite direction of flashing lights and overhead helicopters, speeding through dim and abandoned streets to find shelter that covered their heads. (Y/N)'s extreme and almost frightening knowledge of the deserted area came even more in handy when she took a sudden right, entering another alleyway that was much thinner than the last. If Bokuto were to reach his hand out, they'd scrape against the fast moving brick walls that could take his skin off if he pressed his hand too hard. He kept himself from acting out on that specific thought, though, when (Y/N) took another turn to enter a hidden entryway into the abandoned building. She came to a slow stop and turned off the ignition, pulling out the stick that allowed her motorcycle to stay up.  
  
  


The pair hopped off the bike and, almost immediately, dropped their rears to the concrete flooring of the abandoned store, seizing deep breaths that could drown a fish in one go. They discarded their helmets in front of them and collapsed completely on the dusty floor, too exhausted to care about the pure amount of germs they probably attained on their backs. (Y/N) didn't feel like washing her hair so soon, though, so she rested her head against Bokuto's chest, who relaxed his head on the concrete since he was going to wash his hair later in the day anyway.  
  
  


The pair sat in a comfortable yet exhausting silence, staring at the rotting ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the universe. For once, they felt grounded onto the earth, both physically and mentally. It wasn't everyday you'd shoot a helicopter's light out and take refuge in an abandoned building after racing on a bridge across the Atlantic Ocean. However, (Y/N) could proudly say that the $2000 profit she made was worth it, but it'd probably go towards bills if Kuroo continued to be stingy about his money.  
  
  


Bokuto's mind filled with questions he was almost too afraid to ask, wondering if it'd change the dynamic of their relationship in any way, shape, or form. He desperately didn't want the feelings they harbored for each other to shift, but the questions on his mind were too overbearing that he couldn't keep them in his heart to never be answered. Surprisingly, after a few more minutes of the adrenaline and their fight or flight response dying down, Bokuto opened his mouth—dry from the crisp air rushing past them, the barks of commands he gave to (Y/N), and the stress of making sure they weren't shot dead—and uttered the most prominent question on his mind.  
  
  


"You own a G17? I do too."  
  
  


He didn't say it wasn't a stupid question.  
  
  


(Y/N) was brought from the despairs of her memories and looked up to Bokuto's chin, laughing at his sudden inquiry.  
  
  


"You do? Twinsies!"  
  
  


He smiled at her response and snuck an arm under her collapsed body, wrapping said limb around her waist to pull her closer.  
  
  


"You did great, doll."  
  
  


"You too, babyboy. How'd you know I wanted you to shoot the lights out?" (Y/N) inquired and Bokuto shrugged his shoulders.  
  
  


"They call me Nightcrawler for a reason."  
  
  


"That...was smooth. You _smooth_ motherfucker."  
  
  


(Y/N) and Bokuto shared another exhausted laugh, discerning that the police and the helicopter had been long gone by now. They knew they could probably move from their spot in about 10 minutes, but they extended their stay, exchanging questions back and forth due to the new surge of information they found out about each other.  
  
  


"How did you even get that name?" (Y/N) looked back up at the ceiling at the same time as Bokuto.  
  
  


"I got it from the same people who snitched on me back in Japan. I wouldn't be caught dead selling on the block in the daytime, which caused my sleep schedule to get fucked up. They say I have 'night vision' because I was always able to see things they couldn't see, and I would mainly operate throughout the night. So, yeah," he laughed awkwardly.  
  
  


"That's cool. I used to be a night owl too until I decided to be a grandma. Now, I'm up early in the morning and I go to sleep early."  
  
  


"I wish I could get my sleep schedule back on track like you," he sighed humorously, moving his hand that was at her waist to stroke the neat box parts in her hair.  
  
  


"I didn't know you carry?"  
  
  


"Hell yeah. It's fucking _Florida_ , Ko. Especially in Miami. I'm more of an AK-47 type of girl, but I obviously can't carry that around as a black woman, so I settle," she replied, recalling the fact that she'd probably be arrested if she even dared to take her AK-47 out the house during the daytime or without a mask on.  
  
  


Bokuto frowned and shortly returned his arm to her waist, hugging her tighter than before.  
  
  


"How do you know the terrain so well?"  
  
  


"I got caught in too many drive-by's to count. These fuckers out here truly don't give a damn! Also, I've been in this city since I was 10, so that's fun."  
  
  


"Oh? You were born somewhere else?"  
  
  


"Well, no, I was born here, but then my family moved up north. I got sick of it and told them I wanna go back down, and they didn't agree because, again, they wanted me to follow their standards. I ended up moving in with an auntie who long since removed herself from the picture, and I understand why she did," (Y/N) spilled a bit more of her own backstory, and, as grim as it was, Bokuto was ecstatic to know there had been much more information about (Y/N) he hasn't discovered.  
  
  


"So, you don't have family here. Wow, we really are fucking twinsies."  
  
  


"Prepare for trouble..." she smirked.  
  
  


"And make it double!" Bokuto finished, inducing another round of disfigured cackles from the pair.  
  
  


They sat through another air of pleasant silence, minds unintentionally drifting back to the chase they nearly died from. Knowing they made it out of such an unfavorable predicament allowed an air of confidence to flow between Bokuto and (Y/N) as they picked apart each moment of their eventful day together. Who knew that cruising through rich white neighborhoods and complimenting the architecture would later lead to a police chase that included a team of police cars and an entire helicopter? (Y/N) almost didn't want the night to end, until a sudden question flooded her mind and she spouted it before she realized what type of question it was.  
  
  


"Do you ever miss them?"  
  
  


A silence of a different air flowed between the duo, coaxing (Y/N) to mentally curse herself for asking such a personal and grim question in the middle of a perfect moment. Bokuto, on the other hand, was speechless due to pondering on her question out of a compulsion to provide an accurate answer that was comprehensible.  
  
  


"...Sometimes, I do. I don't think about them too often, though, because I have Fukurodani. At times, I _do_ wonder if they ever see me on the news. I _do_ wonder what they think now that I'm so top-notch that police can't raid me because I'm too connected to the 1%. I haven't heard their voices in four years," Bokuto replied, using his other hand to stroke the bottom of his chin.  
  
  


"I didn't get any calls or any requests for money, so I assume they don't miss me and probably disowned me. That's okay, because, like my uncle said, _"blood don't mean shit in this business."_ So, in a way, I guess I don't miss them...?" Bokuto questioned his own conclusion, not too sure on what he felt for that long forgotten piece of himself.  
  
  


"What about you? Do you miss your family?"  
  
  


(Y/N) could've taken that question two ways. She knew he was referring to her biological family that hated everything she ever did, but she unconsciously answered for Roman instead.  
  
  


"Too much. I miss them too damn much. Damn it..." (Y/N) clenched her teeth tight enough to break a tooth, but she released her tension once she felt Bokuto's arm soothing her slicked box parts once again.  
  
  


"It's okay, (Y/N). It's okay. I got you," he cooed, allowing her to sulk in her misery in his chest; she didn't release any tears, though—she couldn't.  
  
  


"I'll close that gap in your heart."  
  
  


As much as she tried to keep those memories at bay, his last few words broke the dam of moments in her life she never wanted to shine light upon again. Said memories flashed right by her closed eyelids and she was, once again, reliving those days she tried to bury for the past five years. It seemed she couldn't ever lower the casket in its respective grave, though, for the casket flew open and allowed stretches of film to attack (Y/N)'s state of being. They continued to devour her entire being until she opened her eyes, heart-wrenchingly reliving the same moment she never wanted to experience again—the aftermath of the last time she ever sat in the driver's seat of a car.  
  
  


_"It's my fault! It's all my fucking fault! We wouldn't have lost all of those packages if I had a better fucking choice in getaway cars!"_   
  
  


_A 16 year old Roman quivered in grief and anger towards herself, bruised palms gripping the familiar black T-shirt of a boy who happened to be the same age as her. Police sirens and flashing lights mixed in the distance of where they currently hid, anxiety and relief overcoming the duo like a cloak. However, once their adrenaline had died down, Roman's guilt and grief ate her up like hungry maggots that haven't feasted in centuries. Her mental state was thrown into disarray when she took a look at the drowning car in the distance that they were forced to drive off a bridge and abandon if they ever wanted to survive the hands of 12._   
  
  


_"Roman, look at me. Listen to me, Roman. We did what the fuck we needed to do, okay?! You were at a disadvantage, yet we both still left this chase with our lives. They would've killed our black asses if we didn't drown the fucking car! Yeah, we lost a bunch of drugs, but so what? What're the higher ups gonna do, huh?! They can't do shit to us, and they won't. We'll be fine, Roman! We're still alive!" the boy that Roman gripped onto pulled her into a tight hug, despising the tears that fell from her bruised face._   
  
  


_The full moon hung over them, watching her children's tears soak the surface of the cruel planet they were birthed on. They were so small, yet they had to endure so many troubles and discrimination just because of something they were born with. The moon never stopped watching the atrocities her older children committed at night, especially the crimes towards vulnerable black and brown kids that the police force wouldn't ever show to light in the middle of the day. To the sun, 12 was a force that protected and led a good example for society, though they had a_ couple _of slip ups. However, as soon as the universal clock hits 12:00, every idea the sun held for their precious police force was thrown out the window and the moon came to know the_ real _12—the type of 12 they wouldn't dare to put on news stations unless an unsuspecting witness managed to catch their transgressions on camera—and even then, the footage the moon could confirm as true was still questioned by racist apologists._  
  
  


_"Ty, Ty...I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry...!" Roman lifted her sore hands to wipe the tears that wouldn't stop falling from her face, despising every bit of uselessness she felt._   
  
  


_"At this rate, I won't even—"_   
  
  


_"Don't you dare say those words! Do you hear me, Roman?!" Typhoon stopped Roman from uttering the words he refused to ever accept._   
  
  


_Maybe in another realm he'd accept what she planned to say, but, at this moment, in this very section of Miami, with the city lights looking down on them in agonizing pity, he'd rather cut off each of his fingers slowly than admit defeat to achieving the position they strove their absolute damned hardest to seize. Typhoon wouldn't stop at anything to rush past every obstacle that stood in their path to reach the top, so to hear Roman admit defeat after a tiresome chase was a slap to his face. He refused to allow her to verbalize the doubts she's been harboring ever since she realized their vehicle was too big to fit through the thin alleyways._   
  
  


_If only the car were a bit smaller, if only she chose a smaller model, if only she sported the smallest car available in the entire world, then maybe,_ maybe _they wouldn't have lost such an important delivery of drugs for their higher ups. Maybe they wouldn't have made so many mistakes that same night? Maybe Roman wouldn't feel like she couldn't be druglord material if only her car were a_ bit _smaller...?_  
  
  


_"You're gonna fucking make it! I don't care how many cars we gotta drown, or how many times we gotta make it up to the fuckers that sit atop their fancy ass thrones! You're going to be big! Okay, Roman?!" he shouted, grabbing onto Roman's hoodie and rocking the young girl back and forth, attempting to get it through her hard ass head that this wasn't the end; no, this was only the beginning to a much more large scale precedence of power that'd occur only a mere few months later._   
  
  


_"High John said to_ **_get it by any means_ ** _! So we're going to do our damned hardest to get you that spot, whether we have to murder every druglord in Florida for it or not!"_ _Typhoon_ _harshly poked on the spot where Roman's aching heart resides, finally gaining her glossy eyes on his own._   
  
  


_"Now, stop fucking crying! The whole world is yours! Because I'm here, and I got you! And I'm gonna close that gap in your heart with whatever the hell you desire!"_   
  
  


_"I'll make sure you're straight, Roman!"_   
  
  


It's been a long time for (Y/N) since someone promised her such a thing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**"I DON'T CARE IF WE ON**   
**THE RUN, BABY, AS LONG**   
**AS I'M NEXT TO YOU. AND**   
**IF LOVING YOU IS A CRIME,**   
**TELL ME WHY DO I BRING**   
**OUT THE BEST IN YOU?"**

**— BEYONCÉ. | PART II (ON THE RUN)**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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**_CHAPTER INSPO:_ **   
  
  
  
  
  
  


(This is a picture I took in Miami lol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: "He set his heart on conveying soundless words that'd paint a thousand pictures in (Y/N)'s closed eyes." AND "He practically drowned her with the realness of his affection and his admiration." are direct references to the song they woke up to, which was Bound 2 by Kanye West. The flashing lights they experienced while on the chase was also a direct reference to All Of The Lights by Kanye West. All Of The Lights is about exposing a part of celebrities the public doesn't know about, and in this chapter, more was exposed about (Y/N) and Bokuto.  
> "When a real nigga hold you down, you supposed to drown. Bound." — BOUND 2  
> "Close your eyes and let the word paint a thousand pictures, one good girl is worth a thousand bitches." — BOUND 2

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any mistakes I’ve made! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
